Birds of a Feather
by Tando
Summary: Natalie K., fresh off of the CIA, returns to her hometown of Gotham City to go undercover as a professional criminal in order to perform espionage for the government. While trying to break into the criminal world, she meets the somewhat pathetic Oswald Cobblepot, who's looking to do the same. Sharing these goals, the two team up, but will their partnership turn into something more?
1. The City of Opportunity

Chapter 1

"Natalie, are you sure about this? You've still got a few good years left in you. And you can still move on up into the administrative level."

I shake my head, "Thank you Mr. Fay, but I think my time with the CIA is done with."

"Oh, no need to call me Mr. Fay, I'm not your boss anymore. It's just Simon."

One of my coworkers taps me on the shoulder from behind, "Natalie, you have a phone call."

I turn around in surprise, "On the federal line?"

He nods, and I follow him to the small landline phone connected to the wall. I pick it up,

"Natalie, it's Amanda Waller."

I twirl the phone cord on my finger, "Amanda, hey. It's been awhile, how's your new job?"

"That's what I'm calling about. Since you're now retired from the CIA...I wanted to ask if you could work for me."

I turn around and see the small crowd of my coworkers that have gathered in the banquet hall, "You could've at least waited until the retirement party ended, and either way, the answer is no. It'd be like I never retired in the first place."

"Please Natalie, you're the only one I can trust with this assignment. You'll be working in your own hometown too."

Gotham, I haven't been back since I graduated from high school. I got out of that place as soon as I could, need I explain why?

"Natalie, I'm begging you here."

I sigh, "Amanda, if you were anyone else, you know I'd say no. What do you need?"

"I can't discuss this further on this line. Meet me in my office."

She hangs up, and I place the phone down back on the receiver. I walk over back to Mr. Fay,

"Gotta bail early, Amanda's calling," I tell him.

"Oh, of course. I'll bet Amanda wants to recruit you for that new branch of security she's putting together."

I raise my eyebrow, "Really? What have you heard about it?"

"That she's the director of some new initiative, but that's all. Need to know basis and all that."

"Of course," I nod, smiling, "well, it's been great working with you."

He places a hand on my shoulder, "Hey, you know how to reach me should you ever need me. Unlike Amanda, I repay my debts."

I smile, "Thanks Simon."

I quietly slip away from the party. It's a shame I'm the first to leave my own party, but if Amanda went through the trouble to call me using the line within the CIA, it must be urgent.

The building elevator takes me all the way down underground, where the hallways are gloomily lit with energy efficient fluorescent lights.

After getting out of the elevator, I cross the hallway and swipe my card on the reader next to the reinforced metal door. The reader flashes green and the door slides open, guess my card still works.

"Natalie, there you are," Amanda greets from her raised platform, from which she watches a large display screen.

"I'm missing my own retirement party for this, it better be something good," I tell her playfully, walking up to meet her on the platform.

"Well, I'm sure you're aware the government is having me put together a new defense initiative." she begins, "well, the recruits I've been getting aren't...quite what I was looking for."

She waves her hand and one of the technicians below starts typing onto his keyboard, manipulating the screen. It reorients its images to show the profiles of top agents from both the CIA and the FBI,

"What's wrong with these candidates? As far as I know, these are our best guys."

"That's the problem. Sure they have the skill, but they're too valuable to the organization for me to send them on the kinds of missions my branch has to handle."

I press my finger on my chin, "So...what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to go to Gotham City and scout out possible recruits for my missions," she explains, "these recruits can't be ordinary citizens, I chose Gotham for a very specific reason-"

"Because it's hell on Earth?"

She slowly nods her head, "And the rich criminal element there is fertile grounds for recruitment into my new initiative: Task Force X, or as I've nicknamed it: The Suicide Squad."

I arch my eyebrows, "...really? You're going to recruit criminals to work for the government? That...actually, that kind of makes sense."

"So you'll return to Gotham, infiltrate the criminal underworld, and find me some talented soldiers. I want only the best of the best."

"Alright, but what's in it for me?" I ask.

"The work. I know this is what you really love to do, and besides, what were you planning on doing after retiring anyway?" she corners.

I pause, "...I was thinking about finishing school and becoming a psychiatrist."

She chuckles almost cruelly, "_You_, a psychiatrist? Natalie, give me a break."

I roll my eyes, "Thanks for the vote of confidence Amanda, but you know I could still change my mind about taking this assig-"

"You will do no such thing." she snaps out of her momentary laughter.

"Hey, I'm allowed to crack a joke too, aren't I?"

I follow Amanda down from her raised platform and into an armory, filled to the brim with unusual weapons, much of them disguised as everyday objects. She immediately makes a beeline for two specific items, a set of daggers and a drawstring bag,

"I hand-picked these for you specifically," she says, presenting them to me.

Before even taking them, I ask, "What do they do?"

"The daggers have special tracking microbeads coated on them, you cut a person, those beads get into their blood. This is how you'll mark potential recruits, speaking of-" with one of the daggers, she slashes me in the arm, tearing my gray suit and causing the slightest cut.

"Ouch!" I react, pulling away, "...if you really needed to use it, I could've just as easily done it."

"Sorry, bad habit," she mumbles as I snatch the daggers from her and attach them to the strap on my thigh where I use to keep my gun.

"And these," she presents the drawstring bag made of a sturdy cloth, "are small metal capsules. They can hold a variety of properties, but for obvious reasons, I did not mark them. For example," she takes one out, and I realize it resembles a metal marble as it reflects off the blue-tinted light in the room. She throws it away from us, toward the door, and the moment it hits the doorway, electricity releases from it, sending sparks of jagged white light everywhere.

"Impressive," I admit aloud.

She packs everything into a small backpack and throws it at me. I catch it with ease, swinging it around my back.

"Your plane leaves in two hours. Gotham awaits."

****Author's Note:****

****Follow me: Tandothewriter****

****Thanks! :)****


	2. Oswald Cobblepot

Chapter 2

In the small motel room I checked into this morning, I slip into the dress provided for me by Amanda. It's probably the most risque number I've ever attempted to pull off, but thankfully, I'm in pretty good shape. In my hand, I hold a dainty clutch purse, which contains some money, and the pouch of metal marbles. Under my dress, strapped to my thighs, are those fancy daggers that Amanda gave me.

I'd spent the day walking around the city. Dangerous idea yes, but public transportation is much riskier in my experience, and when you're a Gotham native, things don't seem as dangerous as they actually are. I visited all of the spots from my childhood, the apartment I was raised in, or what's left of it, since it's been condemned for quite some time now, one of many. I also visited Gotham High, my alma mater, which has fallen into serious disrepair, although they finally replaced the fence surrounding the school, now it looks even more like a prison.

After leaving my apartment at the cusp of midnight, I walk a couple of blocks, and arrive at the door of one of the many seedy bars in Gotham City. If it were up to me, this is not how'd I'd spend my first night back in my hometown, but what Amanda wants, Amanda gets.

I open the door to be greeted with a dank, dark atmosphere. There are a couple of drunkards, but it's apparent that most of the bar's patrons are on official business, by the way they stare me down suspiciously.

I make my way past the bar to a table where several men in black and brown suits are huddled closely together, rolling dice and taking bets.

"Evening gentlemen," I greet them, placing one hand on the edge of the table.

The men turn around from their game to look up at me. They say nothing at first, and their stares are blank and unmoving.

I push my hand forward, leaning into the group, "I hear Falcone is hiring."

The men all burst out into a collective chuckle, before one of them replies, "Falcone? Hiring a pretty thing like you?"

"Why not? Whatever he needs I can do."

The men put stand up from their seats, and I prepare myself to take them on, but I realize they all stood up at the sound of the front door of the bar bursting open. Two more gangsters stumble in, carrying a much smaller man in a very fashionable suit.

Poor guy, anywhere else he'd be considered of average height, but in Gotham City where the average adult male is a freakish six feet, he's puny.

"Look who came in crying for a job again!" one of them shouts, slamming the guy onto the bar.

"I-I assure you gentlemen, I'm a man of many skills. Your boss will find me very helpfu-" he's cut off by one of them men punching him in the stomach,

"Shut up!"

Someone pushes me from behind, I turn around and it's one of the mobsters, who's shoving me along with the other recruit wanna-be. I could take them out...but the goal is to make nice with these guys, however hard that may be.

Becoming more aggressive, the thugs throw the man to the ground and start stomping on him. I bite my lip, I could jeopardize my entire mission if I help this man, but then again, I really couldn't be in much of a lower standing with them right now, could I?

I run in front of the man, shielding him from the gangsters, "Stop!"

The thugs laugh, before one of them throws a punch at me. I block it, but then another one comes from the side, knocking me off balance. I stumble and catch myself against the bar.

The next thing I know, I'm being grabbed by two of the thugs who hoist me up and escort me out of the bar. Looking to my right, I see that the man is also being dragged out, clearly far worse for wear than I am.

The bar doors are flung open and I'm thrown out onto the dirty, wet pavement, with the man launched right next to me, before the doors are slammed behind us.

I look over my shoulder and see that the man is lying motionless on the ground. Is he hurt bad?

"Hey," I bark over to him.

His head turned away from me, he stirs ever-so-slightly, slowly turning over to reveal shadowy, light green eyes, pasty pale skin, and an abnormally pronounced nose.

What do I say next? "Uhm...you okay?"

With one hand, he pushes himself up, "Yeah...it's, it's not exactly easy to find decent work in this town, is it?"

I nod, and as I begin to push my upper half off the dank pavement, I realize my dress is now soaked from the front, covered in the grime of the street, "Dammit!"

His voice is mid-ranged, and very timid, "Why would someone like you want to associate themselves with men like them?"

"Well, I wasn't exactly born with a silver spoon in my mouth," I tell him, getting onto my knees and rearranging my hair, "hey...nice suit."

His face becomes flushed red, he's clearly not use to getting compliments like that, "Oh, uh...thank you miss. Uhm..do...do you have anywhere you can go?"

"Yeah, but no where with a place to wash this dress."

"Well, I have an apartment, not too far from here. There's a washer and dryer. You could wash your dress there."

Is he serious? This guy is clearly new to the scene as well, considering how trusting he is. And if he's trying to pull something, well, considering his small build, he shouldn't be too much of a problem.

"Alright, thanks. What's your name?" I ask, picking myself up.

He offers his hand to help me, which I take, and as I rise up, his warm helping hand becomes a firm handshake, "Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot."

I smile, "I'm-" I realize I can't use my real name, "Just call me Trixie," ...seriously? That's the best name I could come up with? It sounds like the nickname a rebellious pre-teen would use. Oh well, I'll just go with it.

His hand lingers on my own just a little longer before he lets go. His eyes meet mine, and I realize, under the newly acquired black eye, suit that's just a little too big for his small frame, and slightly offputting, semi-creepy stare, he's kind of adorable, in a sad sort of way.

"Shall we?" he asks, gesturing to the right, "My apartment's down this way."

I feel myself blushing even under the cold wind of the night. I nod, and begin following him down the dark and bleak Gotham street.

****Author's Note:****

****Follow me: Tandothewriter****

****Thanks :)****


	3. All Hail the Queen

Chapter 3

I follow Oswald up several flights of stairs in a dark building to his apartment. The stairs moan with each step, as if the floorboards are about to give out right under us.

"Mother should be home. You'll love her, she's wonderful." he tells me as we ascend the final flight.

He reaches into the pockets of his suit and unlocks the door, letting it slowly creak open. The door opens to a small apartment, decorated in a Victorian fashion. Lace coverings envelope the tables, chairs, and practically everything else. There's a general antiquated feel to the furniture, as if all of the furnishings are actually from the Victorian era.

"Mother, I'm home!" he calls out.

One of the bedroom doors open, and a ghostly older woman appears in the doorway, "Ozzy, you're home ear-" her expression widens as she notices me.

While not a mother myself, I can imagine what would go through a mother's mind when her son comes homes with a woman in a dirty, slinky dress.

"Who's she?" she asks accusingly.

"Mother, this is Trixie, she saved my from...from some muggers. But she got her dress soaked in the process, and I offered to help her clean it up," he explains, although at least from my perspective, he's a terrible liar.

"Oh…" she realizes, "well...I've been meaning to do a load anyway. I'll start up the washer. In the meantime, Oswald, fetch her one of my old dresses."

As she leaves the room, I smirk at Oswald, "Did she call you _Ozzy_?"

He smiles bashfully, "It's...her nickname for me," he tries to conceal his blushing by turning away, "I'll...I'll get you that dress."  
>He shuffles off into her room, leaving me alone in the doorway. I close the door and take a seat on the well-used couch that serves as the centerpiece of the small living room. No television, or even a radio. There's a fireplace opposite the couch, and right in front of my feet is a faded mahogany coffee table, with a rather expensive china tea set set out.<p>

"I'm not sure if this'll fit you but, uh, you can try it on in my room," he says, carefully handing me a neatly folded bundle.

His fingers graze my hand as he hands me the clothes. I swear he's doing that on purpose. I look up at him, but all he gives is an innocent smile.

Taking the clothes, I head into the other bedroom door he gestures to. Opening the door, I see a simple bedroom filled to the brim with stacks of old leather bound books. A double bed sits at the center against the back wall, and intricate sketches of birds hang from the walls.

I set the dress on the bed and unfold it, it's a simple baby blue dress, with a curved collar and two buttons down the breast. I throw off the dress Amanda gave me and slip into the new one. It's form fitting around the waist, but it's definitely classier than eye-catching piece I was wearing earlier tonight.

"Are you dressed?" Oswald asks, peeking in through the door. He sees that I'm changed, and he spends a couple of seconds examining me, his eyes wandering.

"Well, what do you think?" I ask, might as well ask his opinion if he's going to look at me like that.

"Be-beautiful...I, I mean, very nice, very, very...nice."

I smile, "Thanks."

I pick up my dirty dress and carry it to the small side room which serves as the laundry room. Mrs. Cobblepot takes my dress along with a heap of dulled clothes and throws it into the washer,

"Well, while we wait for this to wash, how about I put on some music and we can, uhm, get to know each other?" she offers, "Have you had supper yet?"

I realize I haven't, "No, I don't, I don't usually eat dinner."

"Well, good thing I didn't eat the last of tonight's supper, you can have that, if you like," she offers.

I nod my head, "Alright."

I watch her walk over to the small kitchen corner seated in one corner of the apartment. As soon as I near the kitchen, I catch a whiff of the strong smell of tuna. I notice the small disposal bin in the corner filled to the brim with empty cans of supplemental tuna, the kind the government gives out for free. I wonder, do they still give out those jars of peanut butter too?

"Here you go. Hope it hasn't gotten too cold," she offers me a plate of dried, pinkish yellow tuna, which I take.

"Thank you."

Taking the plate over to the table, Oswald sits on the couch, patting the seat next to him as a gesture for me to sit there. I smile, taking the seat, and I notice as I sit down, Oswald scoots just a little closer so that our legs and elbows are touching just a little. His body is warm on contact, even through his suit, and I can't help but blush.

Mrs. Cobblepot dusts off a record player hidden behind some curtains and picks out a record labelled: _Gotham City Municipal Swing Band and Other Singles _from the shelf below, "Oh, I haven't played this thing in ages."

She sets the record on the spindle, sets the needle on the record, and music starts playing. She sits down in one of the chairs adjacent the couch, "So dear, what brings you to Gotham City?"

Why does she assume I'm from out of town? "I'm actually from here madam," I explain, "it's just I was working up in Star City for awhile, and I decided to return home."

"Return to Gotham? Why?" she asks, shocked.

Uh...uhm...gotta think of something quick, "Well, while yes, most outsiders wouldn't consider Gotham as their first choice of residence, many people, such as myself, consider to be a special place with a lot of potential."

"Gotham is our home," Oswald states proudly.

The song on the record changed to an upbeat orchestral piece. Oswald suddenly gets up, and offers his hand to me. Setting down my plate, I cautiously take his hand, and he leads me to the small open space in the living room floor. He suddenly starts...dancing. Letting go of my hand, he starts twisting his hips and moving his arms back and forth in some sort of jive. It's awkward as hell, but it's all for fun, so I join him, trying to mimic his strange dance. We twist around in opposite directions simultaneously, our eyes never breaking contact.

"Oh, you kids!" Mrs. Cobblepot chuckles as she watches from her seat.

The song eventually stops, and changes to a slower, but still dance appropriate piece. Oswald stops dancing, and so do I. He offers his hand once again, and this time I take it without hesitation. He takes my right hand and extends it out, while he places his own right on my waist, leaving me to place my left on his shoulder. He then takes me into a moderate waltz around the room, our cheeks pressed together. We turn as the small confines of the room allow us to, and out of the corner of my eye, I see a stern, disapproving look on Mrs. Cobblepot's face.

"Your mother doesn't seem to quite like me," I whisper to him, as he releases me into a twirl and then pulls me back in again.

"She's just surprised is all. She's not use to the idea of me having friends."

I smirk, "Friends, huh? I think she senses you have a little more in mind than just friends."

I can tell he's also smiling, "Well, as a famous man once said, love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs."

The record comes to screeching halt, and we both look up to see that Mrs. Cobblepot has pulled the needle from the record, leaving it spin aimlessly, "Well, I think that's enough dancing for one day. It's getting late, you should be on your way uhm...Trixie."

"But Mother, her dress is still in the wash. She should stay over, just for tonight," Oswald pleads.

She crosses her arms, "She can pick up the dress in the morning, and besides, there's no where she could slee-"

"She could sleep with me, there's enough room for two-"

Mrs. Cobblepot eyes bulge out at his poor choice of words, but they eventually settle, "...she can sleep here, but on the couch...if that's alright with you Trixie."

I should decline, I already feel like I'm intruding on these two. Oswald's a clear mother's boy, and without any clear father figure present, it explains why Mrs. Cobblepot's become so attached to her son and visa versa. But Oswald's begging expression, and the fact that he's practically standing in the way of the front door, lead me to consider otherwise.

"...alright. One night, thank you, both of you for your generous hospitality." I smile.

Oswald's fiery green eyes light up, "Yes!"

"Ozzy, may I talk to you...alone?" she asks her son, gesturing towards her room.

They enter the room and she closes the door behind her, glaring at me as she does. I cross my arms, maybe I made the wrong decision staying with this family for the night. While she seems kind on the exterior, his mother is two steps away from kicking me out. But Oswald...man, what a nice guy.

****Author's Notes: ****

****Songs on the record player (in order of appearance):****

****Jeeves/Jervis (first song)****

****Gotham City Municipal Swing Band (the song where they start to dance)****

****Fred Astaire Cheek To Cheek (change to waltz)****

****Also, since there's such an outpour of reviews on the last chapter, I felt the need to start responding to them. If the reviews keep up this pace I will definitely continue.****

****Guest: Here you go! :)****

****Cee: Thanks, the two's relationship will only go up from here. And if you want to see where this originated from, read my Batman fic "The Doctor Is In" which this fic is actually based off of (takes place many years later, so spoiler alert for this fic).****

**** : Yes, Oswald is adorbs :3. And yeah, I imagine many people in Gotham are desperate for work, most people don't ******_**choose**_******to become criminals, they do it out of necessity.****

****Lola93091: Yeah, it's technically his mother's place, but he refers to it as "his place" because...because English. And yeah, their apartment is based on the one that appeared in the show.****

****mk10: Thanks, I'm trying to make him endearing now so we still like him when he goes cray-cray.****

****EJ: Here it is! :)****

****Shadow Cat Mistress: Lol, no problem, either Natalie or Trixie is fine, as Mr. Dent might say, they're "two sides of the same coin".****

****Follow me: Tandothewriter****

****Thanks :)****


	4. The Dark Side

Chapter 4

Oswald and Mrs. Cobblepot have been in that room for quite some time. While I can imagine the things she's saying about me, I'm still curious as to what exactly those words are. I creep over to the door, looking through the old-fashioned keyhole into Mrs. Cobblepot's room. Unlike Oswald's room, her room is filled with vintage finery, complete with a decorated lamp, bed, and a large jewelry box on her dresser with numerous necklaces and pearls sticking out. If they have all of this stuff, why are they seemingly eating nothing but government-supplied tuna?

"I just can't believe you'd let a whore like her into our house!" she scolds her son, keeping her voice quiet but still just as forceful.

"Mother, she's no whore, she's-"

"Have you even asked her where she comes from exactly? What kind of education she has? She could be a tramp off the street for all you kn-"

"None of that matters Mother!" Oswald shouts, his clear voice overpowering her hushed tone, "she..she's kind to me. She helped me, she doesn't make fun of me...she doesn't call me names...she's...she's my best friend."

What kind of messed up life do you have to lead to call someone you've hardly known a day your best friend? And he's clearly not the type to call all of his friends his "best friend".

I back away from the door and reseat myself on the couch as they approach the door. Opening the door, Mrs. Cobblepot smiles at me warmly as Oswald takes my hand.

"Now Ozzy...what did we talk about?" Mrs. Cobblepot warns him.

He reluctantly lets go, but not before making sure my hand slides across his as it falls to my side. "I'll...get you one of Mother's nightgowns," he scurries back into his mother's room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Mrs. Cobblepot puts her hands on her hips, "So...how long have you and Oswald known each other?" she interrogates sternly.

"We...we met just today," I confess.

She nods, "And you don't find it strange, how he's taken such a liking to you so quickly? Invited you into his home, introduced you to his mother?"

"Well, in a sense, yeah, it's rather strange," I admit freely, "but...having grown up in this city, you grow to understand that people here are desperate for allies, or at least other people they know they can trust."

"So you would use this to manipulate Oswald?" she asks accusingly.

I pause, "...I'd like to think of our friendship as...mutually beneficial."

Oswald walks out of the room carrying a long nightgown that flows to the ground even in his hands, "Here you go."

I take the nightgown from him and turns to Mrs. Cobblepot, "You don't have to offer this to me, I can sleep in the clothes I have right now-"

She jolts back, shocked, "Go to sleep in those day clothes? What, were you raised in a barn?"

I can't help but roll my eyes, and she catches note of this, "Don't roll your eyes at me young lady! I have it on good authority to send you out of here-"

"Mother!" Oswald interrupts.

I turn around, "Well, are you going to kick me out or what?"

This time, she remains silent, and I back into Oswald's room to change. I take off my dress, tucking my knives under the dress, and I'm picking up the nightgown when Oswald opens the door, "I'm sorry about thaaa…" he suddenly realizes my dress is off, with only my undergarments to cover me.

I pull the nightgown in front of me to conceal my bare torso and legs, "Just...give me a moment to put this on."

I throw the nightgown over myself, shuffling into it as the soft fabric falls over my body.

"Are you going to change as well Oswald?" I ask, changing the subject.

He nods, holding out a set of purple silk pajamas with blue umbrellas on them. I smile, "Those are...amazing. You're adorable." I tell him, playfully messing with his hair.

He turns around as I walk over to the couch, "I...I'm adorable…"

* * *

><p>I'm jolted awake by a sudden sound. All of the lights are off, it's still night time, the only source of light comes from the Gotham skyline through the open windows. I look out and realize what a wonderful view they have of the city, with the exception of a couple of high-rises, you can see straight out past the Gotham bay, almost all the way to Blüdhaven.<p>

There a creaking sound from within the floorboards, I whip around, but I see no one. Grabbing one of my knives from under my dress, I keep it behind my back as I slowly approach the dark shadows of the small kitchen in the corner. I make it to the kitchen...empty. All of a sudden, I feel a sharp breathing on my neck, strong enough to blow my hair ever so slightly. Posing my knife to attack, I turn around, and stop myself at the last minute as I see it's Oswald, bashful and smiley as ever, "...hi."

"Oh God, Oswald, you scared the hell out of me," I whisper, relaxing myself, casually hiding the knife behind my back again.

He points behind my back, "Whatcha got there?"

Damnit, he saw the knife. Guess it was kind of inevitable, since I was just about to strike him with it. I present it to him, the blue highlights seeming to glow in the dark slightly. He gingerly takes the knife, examining it closely, "Wow...fourteen inch military grade Persian styled knife. Custom designed too, where did you get this?"

Okay, while most Gotham natives have had their fair share of knife fights, even they wouldn't be able to identify a knife like that so easily. Where'd he learn this?

"A friend gave it to me," I tell him, it's at least half true.

I grow increasingly paranoid as Oswald continues to hold the knife. It eventually rests in his right hand, gripped tightly. He raises the knife up, and I instinctively grab his wrist, turn him around, kicking him in the back of knee to knock him down. Pressing my weight against his back, I pull him into a typical police arrest hold. The knife goes clattering to the ground, and I pick it up and put it away, concealing it from view. I suddenly see Oswald starting to laugh, a joyous but somewhat maniacal laugh, that further concerned me as to whether or not he was actually going to try to stab me.

"Oh...oh you're good. Brava Trixie, brava." he applauds sincerely, even as I hold him down.

Is...is this some kind of joke to him? While yes, his general attitude is innocent and playful, there's something, something rather unsettling, just under the surface.

I release him from the hold. He falls to the ground and rolls over to face me, smiling gleefully, "I confess, I rather liked that."

I raise an eyebrow, well, now I know what he's into. He stands up, "You know, I wish I could do things like that, to grab someone and...and just be in control for once."

"Self-defense is not about being in control, it's about preserving your life and the lives of those around you."

His smile suddenly turns from naive and innocent to absolutely devilish, "Who said anything about self-defense?"

****Author's Note:****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: Haha, sleepover, if that's what you want to call it ;P. And I took out the period in your name, hopefully now will let me use it.****

****Guest: Well, when you don't have friends to begin with, I'd assume it's pretty hard to take a relationship to the next level. And yes, as we've seen in the show so far, he's eloquent, but socially awkward.****

****Shadow Cat Mistress: I think if anything, his mother is being protective of him (but yes, there is definitely some jealousy involved as well).****

****Follow me: Tandothewriter****

****Thanks! :)****


	5. Keep Him Warm

Chapter 5

I follow Oswald into his room, where he sits at his windowsill, looking out at the beautiful view of the Gotham skyline.

"You have a lovely view," I comment, looking out the window with him.

"Yeah...Gotham is loveliest at night, isn't she?" he tilts his head to the side, "Although, that big skyscraper is covering my view of the Gotham Bay," he points, aiming his finger at the Wayne Enterprises building just off in the distance, "thankfully, you can still see the bay from the living room."

I blow a raspberry, rolling my eyes and smiling, "Oh, who cares about the bay? Have you ever been to the bay? Dirtiest thing ever."

He nods as he swallows, his own smile fading, "Yes...many times actually."

"Why?"

"Well, I didn't exactly go by choice," he explains, "there was this group of boys from school who'd bring me out there and...dump me in."

"And you didn't fight back?" I ask.

He sighs, "...I...I was short, still am. Plus, I'm sure you've noticed my nose and teeth. I've always had those...Penguin, that's what they'd call me. To them, I was a little Penguin, who couldn't defend himself...I, I'm sorry, I'm not sure why I'm telling you all this."

I'd noticed his slightly elongated nose, but I'd never noticed his teeth before. While most people in Gotham don't have dental hygiene high on their priority list, as he starts smiling at me again, I notice his teeth are not only yellowed out and protruding, but are also slightly sharpened, as if all of his teeth are canines.

"It's fine," I tell him, "if it helps, I'll never call you Penguin-" I pause, "except for that one time."

He chuckles, "It's fine, really."

I laugh as well, "What, me calling you Penguin?"

"NO!" he shouts angrily.

I step back, shocked at his sudden mood swing. He's changed completely, his posture more upright, his head bent down slightly to emphasize his fierce, shady eyes. Maybe I'd gotten more than what I'd bargained for with this guy. Should I try to negotiate around him? Or is he more trouble than what he's worth? And did Mrs. Cobblepot hear that as well?

"Okay, okay! It's agreed, Oswald, I won't ever call you that again." I promise him, trying to defuse the situation.

He backs off, "...you're scared."

I give a nervous grin, "Well, you certainly gave me a fright for a second there. I never knew you could assert yourself like that."

He smirks maliciously, and gestures for me to approach him, "Come here, I want to show you something...you've nothing to fear."

My heart starts racing, what is he suggesting? I slowly begin my first steps toward, my body rigid with nervousness. He turns around and suddenly gets down on one knee, searching through a pile of his books and papers. He whips around and shows me a child's costume, like something you'd see at a Renaissance Fair.

"Do you like it? It was always my go-to Halloween costume as a child." he presents, his voice returning to childlike innocence and joy.

"It's...nice. Is it suppose to be any particular character?" I ask, a wave of relief coming over me.

"Why, yes, actually. It's Hamlet-"

I smile, "Prince of Denmark?"

His eyes light up, "You know the Bard! I...I can't believe it, I mean, I never thought someone from Gotham would concern themselves with the works of Shakespeare."

"Well, contrary to the Gotham stereotype, I'm actually a high school graduate." I smirk, crossing my arms proudly.

He grabs a stack of his many books, "I have all of his works, including his poems, unfinished plays, and personal quotes."

Setting them on his bed, he gestures for me to sit on it with him. I comply, our legs touching as the bed sinks under our weight, pulling us toward the center.

"Which play is your favorite?" I ask him, picking up his copy of Othello.

He flutters his eyelids, "Oh, my god, that's like choosing between my children...uhm, of course I love Richard III, Macbeth…" he smiles playfully, "...Romeo and Juliet."

"So, you're more for Shakespeare's tragedies?"

He nods as I hand him Hamlet. He opens up the book, "How about a bedtime story?"

I chuckle, "Alright."

We lie down on the bed together, and as our heads hit the pillow, we turn to face each other. Our noses touch, and his breath quickens as his cheeks become red.

"Uhm...so, Act I, Scene I?"

* * *

><p>I awaken in Oswald's bed. We must've fallen asleep reading Hamlet. I turn over and see Oswald's tar black hair, mangled from sleep, and his mouth slightly ajar. I'm cuddled up next to him, our hands and feet intertwined. I want to get up, but doing so would probably wake him up-<p>

"Oh my Lord!" Mrs. Cobblepot shrieks as she stands at the doorway.

Oswald jolts awake, accidentally knocking several books off of the bed in the process, "G-good morning Mother!"

"I can't believe you let this...this whore bring you so low, seduce you into this shameful act-"

"Mother, it's not what you think! All we did was talk," he lifts up Hamlet, which is turned to the middle of Act II, "she knows Shakespeare, we were reading Hamlet together-"

She walks in and flings open the curtains, "A likely story," in her hands I see my original dress. She throws it at me, "you leave today."

"Yes, ma'am." I mumble.

"And I don't ever want to see you near my son again," she warns, before slamming the door.

I glance at Oswald, who's hunched over, his meaty hands toying with the book, "I'm...so sorry about that."

"Don't be," I tell him sternly, "it's your mother's home, not mine. If she doesn't want me in her house, that's...completely understandable."

"This isn't goodbye, is it?"

I shrug, slinging the dress over my shoulder, "Only if you let her control you."

* * *

><p>"Oswald, thank you for letting me wash this dress over at your place," I formally thank him as we walk along the street back to my motel room.<p>

He chuckles, "Trust me it's nothing. It's the least I could do after you...stood up for me back at the bar."

"Oh, that? It was nothing, forget about it," I assure him, "your mother though, she certainly doesn't like me-"

"Actually, I'd say she likes you quite a bit. She's...she's just scared...is all," he states, stuttering a little in between.

"You really think so? Usually when I meet a guy's parents, things don't tend to go over well," I admit. "having your mother not approve is sort of...par for the course for me."

"Well...I don't usually bring people over, so I think she must have been...pleasantly surprised."

I nod, although I don't agree, and I look up at the dull gray building that houses the motel, which is only a block away now. I reach into my purse for…

"Hang on...where's my motel key?"

The early morning sky becomes jet red as an explosion rockets from the building. Oswald and I jump back and find cover in an alleyway as debris flies at us.

"Was that…?"  
>"Yeah," I mumble as the aftershock of the explosion settles.<p>

We come out from behind and see the building is now completely ablaze. I watch as several people run out of the building, their skin and clothing scorched from the flames. How did this happen?

I glance over at Oswald. I could blow my cover if I tried to rescue the people in the building but...screw cover.

I charge for the building, and I hear Oswald's footsteps not too far behind, "What are you doing?!"

"There must be people still inside!" I explain, running to the side of the building, scaling a drainpipe, and I look behind me at Oswald for just a second before leaping into the flames.

**Author's Note:**

**Lexie the Dreamer: Here it is!**

**Fuchsia Grasshopper: Haha, I wanted those lines to convey his need for control in general, but apparently everyone's interpreting it in another way ;). And Mrs. Cobblepot is a heavy sleeper but is always there to catch them "in the act"**

**Lola93091: Lol, it looks to be a little early for any kind of "play" but hopefully this chapter was good nevertheless**

**x: Here's the next chapter :)**

**Nikaru12: ¿Oswald es psicopático? Sí pero se convierte psicopático mucho durante la novela y Natalie/Trixie será muy cuidado. Lo siento por mis errores porque español es mi lengua segundo :3**

**Shadow Cat Mistress: Thanks, I did a lot of research in order to pinpoint the character, or at the very least my interpretation of him. As for angst and fluff, I disperse it when appropriate (like this chapter for example, the whole Shakespeare thing is both suppose to be a "heartfelt scene" and a reference to Oswald's original origin in the comics), but in the end, if any angst and fluff exist, it'll be in service to the story, not the other way around**

**Follow me: Tandothewriter**

******Thanks! :) ******


	6. Mother Knows Best

Chapter 6

As soon as I've cleared the window I'm down on my knees, my head to the ground to avoid inhaling smoke. I shuffle through the hallway, and halfway through, I spot a piece of sky blue cloth in the corner of a door. Pulling it out, I wrap it around my mouth and nose for extra protection. Somewhere else in the apartment, the sound of collapsing wood and screams are heard. It sounds like it's coming from downstairs. I make a beeline for the staircase, leaping off of my knees and running while still keeping my head low. I race down the stairs, and at its foot, I'm greeted with two young boys, one hardly older than a toddler. The eldest is crushed under a pile of debris, while the younger one is scrambling in vain to free his brother, pulling off what little pieces of charred wood he could carry.

I approach the situation carefully, not wanting to scare either of the boys. The oldest notices her, and points so that the younger one turns and sees me too. Not knowing what to say, and wanting to save my breath as it is, I silently stride to the boy and help his brother lift off the wooden boards covering his companion. I notice that both boys are coughing heavily, black smoke practically swirling up from their mouths. I lift the two up and make for the fire escape window. But just as we make it down the hallway, the roof above us comes down, knocking out the floor by the escape. I turn around with the boys, and the first few coughs escape me as by breath becomes wheezy. My chest becomes heavy as I make my way down the stairs. The building creaks and I turn my head up to see the wall above us come crashing down. Holding the two boys under me, I make a run for it, although a large wooden board still hits my back, smashing into two before falling to the ground. The sting on my back from the falling projectile stays with me, compiled with my gasping and coughing until I make it out the door. I release the two boys, and they scurry off into the streets, leaving me to collapse to the ground. But, just as my head is about to connect with the concrete steps, two pale hands catch me by the head. My entire body is then shakingly lifted, as the two hands that can just barely handle my weight attempt to lift me up by my back and knees. I cough up a fair amount of smoke before I manage to speak,

"Put me down...I...I can walk-"

"No, no, you've done enough. Let me carry you." Oswald insists, his voice warm and comforting.

I smile at him, "You're gonna drop me."

"...I'll manage."

I look back at the burning building, "Where are we going anyway?"

He sighs, "Well, Mother does like you, and after what you did, I'm sure she won't have a problem with you staying over for a while."

I want to protest, as much as he thinks his mother likes me, she clearly doesn't. But before I can, he reaches out with one hand to comb his hand through my hair, but this causes his support to slip, and I hit the ground, landing on my posterior. He reaches down to help me up, and I take his hand, smirking, "Told you you'd drop me."

Mrs. Cobblepot walks through the door from her trip to the food line and sees me by the stove,

"You...you're suppose to be gone!"

I turn around, still wearing Mrs. Cobblepot's old dress, combined with a frilly apron, my hair up, and and rag wrapped my head, "I know Mrs. Cobblepot, but you must understand-"

She sniffs the air, "...is that...beans?"

I back away from the stove to reveal a pot burning on the stove, "You see, when Oswald and I got back to my room, the entire motel was aflame and-"

She places her plastic bag full of canned tuna and presides over to the stove, lifting open the pot, "Beans…" she sniffs again, "And...and all this other stuff, tell me young lady, what is this dish?"

"Succotash." I reply cautiously.

She slams the lid back down on the plate, "A savage's dish no doubt. Are you trying to kill my precious son?"

"Mrs. Cobblepot, it's just beans and vegetables." I explain.

She looks out into the living room. With the sun low over the horizon, and the curtains all pulled back, the room has a warm, orange glow, with the record playing quietly in the background. The room itself has been dusted and swept, showcasing what little color the room has, making it seem brighter, more cheerful, and lively.

Mrs. Cobblepot presses her fingers to her lips, "Oh...well...you should close those curtains. Wouldn't want the sunlight damaging the furniture." she walks over, pulling down the faded once-velvet curtains, "And just for future reference, it's _K__abelput_. Part of a proud heritage, something _you_ clearly are not familiar with."

I clench my fist on the spoon I'm holding. I really want to hit this woman right now.

"Mother, you're home!" Oswald declares, stepping out of his room.

She turns around, and her face lights up, "Oh, Ozzy, thank goodness, I was beginning to worry!" she goes to him, pulling him into a tight hug and kissing him on the forehead.

He smiles brightly, chuckling a little, "What is there to worry about Mother?" he pulls out of her hug, and walks over to me, placing his hand on my shoulder, "Wow, that smells wonderful, dear." he places his other hand on my other shoulder, leaning closer so that he can whisper, "You're doing well, she's clearly impressed."

"I told you cleaning the house would work." I whisper back, "Like you said, she's old-fashioned. She wants to see me as wife material."

He raises an eyebrow, "...are you?"

"Hey, just because I can cook and clean doesn't make me any more eligible than any other woman." I point out, "And besides, I've always been an independent type."

He leans in just a little closer, his lips practically touching my cheek, "Let's test that notion, shall we?"

My eyes dart to my left, and see Mrs. Cobblepot, standing in the living room, her arms crossed and her eyes staring daggers, "Stop, you're upsetting your mother. And don't call me 'dear', it's not helping our case."

He slowly backs off, his arms sliding from my shoulders all the way down my arms, lingering on my fingertips before releasing, "Of course…" he smirks teasingly, "My dear."

I sigh in equal annoyance and longing as I return to stirring and Oswald follows his mother into her room. When I'd recovered from that fire, it was already mid-afternoon, and Oswald insisted that I continue to stay at his place, even with his disapproving mother. I was just going to find another motel room, until I'd realized that most of the cash on me was burned in that fire. I need to go to the bank tomorrow morning. But my mind keeps going back to that fire. It sure was a strange coincidence that the motel I was staying in just happened to burn down. I should also call Amanda tomorrow, something's up.

"Dinner's ready!" I call out.

Oswald and his mother both exit her room as the record changes song, and Oswald grins as he sees me set out the plates.

We all sit at the very small fold-out table and chairs that serve as the removable dining table and chairs. Oswald digs in immediately, while I tentatively pick at my food, waiting for Mrs. Cobblepot to pass judgement. She takes a dainty bite, and her eyes light up for a brief second, before returning to her usual thousand-yard stare,

"It's...alright." is her comment.

I keep my head down as I finally start eating, trying to hide a slight smirk of satisfaction. I'd agreed with Oswald that I'd stay one more night if his mother would allow it, and I knew that if I had any chance of that being true, I'd have to impress her, and perhaps I have, just perhaps.

Although, as I scoop up the last of my beans with their rather expensive silverware that looks far from fake, I realize, why am I so determined to impress this woman anyway? Am I really that insecure as to seek approval from an old hag like her? No, I've never tried impressing a parent of a friend before, mostly because I don't have a lot of friends to begin with. Then again, Oswald's no friend either. But if not friend, what _is_ he exactly?

"That has a heavenly meal, Trixie." Oswald compliments, dabbing his mouth with a cloth napkin.

I smile, "Thank you. Shall I clear the table?"

We all get off of the table as I collect the plates and utensils. As I collect up the reusable cloth napkins and start up the sink, Oswald approaches me,

"How about after you finish with those dishes, I could change the record and we could dance a little-"

"No dancing tonight Ozzy." Mrs. Cobblepot concludes, "I need to talk to...Trixie alone, please."

Ozzy's confident smile fades, "Of course Mother. I'll be in my room." he crosses to his room and closes the door.

I turn off the sink, and Mrs. Cobblepot turns off the record player. We sit opposite each other on the living room couches. She folds her hands together,

"Don't get me wrong young lady...it's not that I don't like you. I think...I think you're a fine young woman." she explains.

Wow, I did not expect this to come from her. Is this going somewhere I'm not gonna like?

"It's just...my son, you've seen, he's...special, yes?" she continues. "And...and he needs a special woman...someone who will look out for him."

I nod slowly. Sure Oswald's got his quirks, but we're in Gotham, everyone does.

"So, someone like you?" I ask, rather bluntly.

"In a manner of speaking, yes." she concludes. She pauses, her eyes darting from place to place, "You've seen him. He can be elegant and charming but he's...he can be…"

"I can be what, Mother?" he asks, standing in his doorway, "Strange? Awkward? Lonesome? Odd?" he steps forward slowly, his steps stiff and deliberate, "Please, do tell me, I'm dying to hear."  
>"You...you're unique, my son." she assures his, stroking his cheek, "You're one of a kind."<p>

His expression is stern, and he pulls his cheek away from her, "I can't believe even my own mother would turn against me. You're just like the boys in the schoolyard, aren't you? You find me repulsive, you're ashamed."

"No, Ozzy, of course not-"

"I don't want to hear it." he stops her with the splayed gesture of his hand, "One day, I will prove to you...to the world...that they were wrong to shun me, hide me. And then, they will all pay." he marches into his room and slams the door behind him.

**Author's Note: **

**Songs on the record player (I realize now that FF won't let me post links directly to songs, so I'll just post the title, so then you can easily find these songs on Youtube):**

**Up Soundtrack - Married Life (first song)**

**A Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight (second song)**

**Guest: Thanks, I will definitely continue writing as long as there's demand.**

**Fuchsia Grasshopper: I agree, the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree (I notice this is kind of how Oswald's behavior is in the show, and while we haven't seen a lot of Mrs. Cobblepot, I'm assuming she's similar, although I know there's going to be a scene with them together in Monday's episode, and I will be pissed if I got her personality wrong).**

**Guest: Thank you, I'm trying to keep her abilities realistic (as realistic as someone from the CIA can be), and yes, I felt like I needed a fluffy scene with them finding common ground, and Shakespeare just sort of makes sense for Oswald's character, don't you agree?**

**Dreamweaver74: Yay, someone who reads both **_**Birds of a Feather **_**and ** _**The Doctor Is In**_**, although I'm thinking about diverging from that story (I've already heavily edited the parts I do use from that story to fall in line with this story's tone and continuity).**

**MugglebornPrincesa: Perhaps...perhaps ;). Sorry, wish I could write more here, but, I don't want to give anything away. Thanks though!**

**Thanks! :)**


	7. So, Talk to Me

Chapter 7

I find Oswald sitting by the open windowsill in the hallway outside the apartment, looking out into Gotham's dark night sky. Beside him is a small paper bag of bread crumbs, which he tosses to the pigeons on the window detail outside,

"A...a dove sometimes comes by...and, and perches on my finger." he mumbles, turning slightly behind him, acknowledging me.

I sit beside him on the windowsill as he continues to feed the birds, the pigeons pecking away at the seed.

"None of the other birds will perch on my finger. If I try, even hold out my finger for a moment too long without any food...they'll start pecking at my finger...even biting me." he pulls his hand away and packs away the seeds as a smooth white dove flies in among the grey pigeons. Oswald holds out his finger ever-so-slightly, and without hesitation, the dove hops onto his finger. He strokes it gently with one of the fingers of his other hand as he carries it through the apartment window, "Mother doesn't understand...I don't need love, just...companionship. Understanding." he looks down at the dove's talon-like feet, one of its legs slightly bent, "You know how I know this is the same dove? When it first came to me, I broke its right leg, see?" he points the slight bend in the leg.

I remember seeing an empty bird cage in his room, but I still have to ask, "Why?"

His expression becomes stern, accentuating the dark shadows under his sunken in eyes, "Because, it was going to leave." he looks back down at the bird, "I tried keeping it, but eventually the wound healed, and...it flew off. But it always comes back...it always does."

"I wonder why…" I sincerely ask myself.

"What do you mean?" he responds, looking up from the bird.

He catches me off guard, I had no idea he heard me. I decide the truth is the best route, "Well...if you hurt someone like that...why would they ever want to come back to you again?"

He shrugs, reaching his hand out the window and pushing his finger slightly so that the bird is bumped off, flying into the night, "...it's just a bird. You think too much into things sometimes."

I shrug back, "It's kind of my thing. Got me into a lot of trouble when I was in school."

He blows at his black bangs, letting them fly up above his head, "Ugh, don't even get me started on school."

"Why? You seem like a pretty smart guy." I figure.

He blushes, smiling, but his smile quickly fades, "That...that was sort of the problem. You see, I went to Gotham Academy-"

"No way, Gotham Academy?! That fancy rich school out by the city limits? Wow, Oswald, you are one lucky guy."

He grins, before continuing, "Yeah, of course I couldn't actually afford it, I'd won full scholarship to the school. Mother was so proud, I'd been home schooled up to that point, and I remember her combing my hair back on my first day, kissing me on the cheek, wishing me good luck. But when I got there...I...realized for the first time...how different I am from everyone else." he looks down at his hands, "How...scrawny...how, pitiful I must have looked to them. The new boy at school...short, small, with a long nose. I couldn't play sports...I didn't know any of the popular singers or their songs and nobody...no one appreciated my strengths. But, as I got older, I started meeting girls, I started...liking girls. If I ever found a girl I liked I'd bring her home, introduce them to Mother. She'd always disapprove, but it didn't matter, they were all the same."

"How so?"

He chuckles, "They were never interested in me. They thought that since I went to Gotham Academy, I'd come from money. Boy, were they ever surprised when I showed them my modest home. Most of them wouldn't dare step into the door. Eventually I stopped trying." he leans his head down, "I...I'm sorry, I'm talking too much about myself. Where are my manners?" he turns to me, smiling broadly, "Tell me, what was it like as a child for you?"

"There isn't much to tell-"

"Liar." he blurts out suddenly. He points a finger towards me, "I'm starting to understand you...how you tick. You always want to know about other people, yet you hardly give anything away about yourself."

I shrug, "Is there something wrong with that?"

"Not really…" his eyes narrow, but his tone never becomes hostile, "I'm just not quite sure why your guard is always so high."

He's suspicious of something, does he know something I'm not aware of?

"I'm just...more reserved. Less expressive and eloquent compared to you." I confess, and I watch as his eyes and cheeks light up in satisfaction, "Well, if you really want to know, I went to Gotham High, down in Southside. Like you, I never had many friends, but that was mostly my fault. I would purposely scare them off. My only real friend was this guy named Ed, for some reason I could never scare him away. He was like me...weird, outcasted, so I guess the friendship sort of made sense. Birds of a feather flock together, am I right?"

He nods, "And, you and Ed...were you…?"

"Anything more than friends? Nope, but we were always accused of it. I was never his type." I explain, "Anyway, I haven't seen him since graduation. I went to college out in Star City, while he stayed here to pursue a degree in criminology and forensic science." I chuckle, "I mean, where else would you study that kind of thing but Gotham?"

He smiles in agreement, "Right? I mean, you could just step two paces outside your own home and find at least three prime subjects for study."

"Yeah? And have you seen on the news lately? All those reporters freaking out, like, 'Gotham is experiencing the crime wave of the century! An old lady's purse was stolen today, the horror!'. Lady, Gotham has always been like this, it just took the effects to spread to the rich for anyone to notice."

Oswald presses his hands against his cheek, "Oh my gosh, yes! Nobody notices when the occasional homeless man or orphaned child goes missing, but when some politician's cat goes missing, there's freaking mass hysteria!" his wide smile shifts, becoming malicious, "It's because...it's because only people of power matter in this city. And...and I want to be one of those people. You understand, yes? Why I want this?"

I can't stop myself once I start nodding my head slowly, "Yes...yes I do."

He clasps my hand, holding it in his own, "Then say you'll help me, please? I can't do this alone, I need...I need, someone by my side."

Help him? He could be a madman for all I know. The signs he's given me so far certainly have not helped his case. But...and there always seems to be a "but" with this guy, he's so sweet, and gentlemanly. He's kind and thoughtful, nobody's treated me the way he has…

He reaches over and strokes a strand of hair away from my face. I take his hand, and reluctantly push it away, "Oswald, I think I know what's worrying your mother. You say you don't want love, yes? But on the other hand, you're so intimate with me. I think it's sending the wrong message."

"But I...uhm...Mother...she'd...I...I don't…I do…" his speech is stammered, with inaudible murmuring in between.

I smile warmly, "We'll work out the details later, I'm sure."

There's noise from down below as two men in sharp suits come barging up and begin banging on the door to Oswald's apartment. Oswald and I get up from the windowsill, as one of the men begins shouting, "Open up! Mrs. Cobblepot, we know you're in there! You better have the money or else-"

"Gentlemen, what is this fuss all about?" Oswald asks, approaching them.

One of the men, tall, large, and gangly, stomps up to the timid Oswald, pointing a sausagy finger at him, "Listen here kid, we raised the rent three months ago, and you guys are still two months behind."

"I assure you, it's all a temporary misunderstanding. We'll have your money in due time-"

"That's exactly what you told us last month!" the other one shouts, spit flying at Oswald's face.

"You know what I think you need? You and the old lady need another lesson, is what you need." the first thug proposes, pounding his fist against his calloused palm.

Mrs. Cobblepot opens the door, and before she can say anything, the two thugs push past her, knocking her to the ground. Oswald rushes to her aid, helping pick her back up as they enter the apartment.

"What should we do first?" the second man asks the first.

The first man examines the china tea set sitting on the coffee table, "Too bad we didn't bring your bat. Ah well, we'll just take it. Probably sell it for a nice price too. Maybe get the old car fixed up with the money."

The second thug shakes his head, searching through their cabinets, "Naw, that's not enough to fix up your old junker. You'd need something a little something more...something like these." he scoops several of their silver forks out of a drawer, showing them off to the other.

He chuckles, "Yeah...yeah, those'll do nicely. Make sure to take the whole set. We'll count it as...about a month's worth of rent."

"Those are worth more than your entire life's payroll, if you're even on one you thieves!" Mrs. Cobblepot shouts, as Oswald protectively holds her back.

The men snicker, looking at each other with knowing smiles. Items in tow, they gang up on Mrs. Cobblepot, yanking her out of Oswald's arms, "Mother!"

I instinctively reach for my daggers until I see the men holding Mrs. Cobblepot. Having at least a foot on both her and Oswald, they could take either one of them out easily. No...I can't fight them head on...even before they became aggressive with Mrs. Cobblepot there was still a chance that one of them could get hurt if a fight were to take place.

One man yanks at her pearl necklace, while the other looks at the small golden band with small diamonds on her left ring finger, "These'll do nicely for one more month's worth of rent."

I reach into my clutch purse and pull out all the money I have on me currently, and present it to the men, "Here, would this be enough to cover rent?"

The mens' eyes widen at the sight of several hundred dollars clutched in my hand. One of the men reaches for the money but I swipe it away, "First, let go of Mrs. Kabelput."

I can't help but smirk as Mrs. Cobblepot's eyes widen at the sound of my accurate pronunciation of her name. True, it helps that I also have a last name that nobody can ever seem to get right, but she wouldn't be as cheerful if I told her it.

The men let go of her, and she runs into Oswald's arms, sobbing. I continue my demands, "Lastly, release their belongings."

One of the men smirk, and looking at the other, he smirks too, "Poor choice of words lady."

The man holding the china tea set drops it sending to toward the ground. Dropping the money, I dive for the tea set, catching the pot with one hand, letting the cup and two of the trays land on my opposite arm. But, I watch in horror as one final cup just misses my arm, hitting the wooden floor with an unpleasant *crack*.

The men laugh, the other man dropping the much sturdier silverware to the ground, as the other scoops up the money. They push past Oswald and Mrs. Cobblepot as they make their unceremonious exit,

"The lady bailed you out this time, you might not be as lucky next time." one of them warns, before making their way down the steps.

I carefully set down the tea set, as Mrs. Cobblepot picks up the cracked cup, "This...this was given to me...by my parents, at my wedding."

"I'm so...so sorry Mrs. Kabelput. I tried to save it all but-"

"No need for apologies young lady." she pushes away harshly, "Inside, I'm furious with you right now, but, but something tells me I shouldn't be."

Oswald puts the silverware in the sink for washing, and I check my purse. Just enough to make a phone call to Amanda. Good.

"She can stay another night." Mrs. Cobblepot mumbles, stammering into her room.

Oswald rushes after her, but not before looking back at me, smiling, as he runs into her room, closing the door behind him.

****MugglebornPrincesa: Lol, if only :). If I ever wrote a "What If?" for them, I'd definitely evoke that kind of feel.****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: I agree, I think she's trying to look after him (there's this great interview I found online with Mrs. Cobblepot's actress Carol Kane that really gives some insight into her character and it's how I was able to get a feel for the character even before her first appearance on Gotham).****

****Shadow Cat Mistress: Yeah, Oswald's character has become so popular I think because he can be deplorable but also sympathetic as well (also because of the "bad boy" stereotype a lot of people tend to associate with him but that's another story for another day).****

****Guest: Thank you.****

****Thanks! :)****


	8. Mad Love

Chapter 8

I'm left on my own again, as Oswald and Mrs. Cobblepot carry on a long conversation in her room. I walk into Oswald's room, admiring the sketches of various birds hanging from the wall. Under one of the bird sketches, I notice a yellowed, frayed paper sticking out. I carefully remove the sketch to reveal a crude crayon drawing of three stick figures, a small one labelled "Ozwald" in purple, another, much larger stick figure labelled, "Mom" in pink, and a scratched out stick figure, almost completely obscured in a dark black crayon, over what use to be red crayon. I can't even tell what use to be represented by what is now a bunch of dark scribbles. I take the sketch that was covering the drawing, and as I place it back on the wall, I notice the wall moves just a little bit with my hand. I take a closer look and realize that it's not a wall at all, but a screen that's been covered with wallpaper. I push the screen back to reveal a closet-like space, with various black suits hanging up in a neat row. But that's not what catches my attention. Directly in the middle of the space, just barely fitting in the cramped area, is an antiquated piano, its wood having long lost its color and shine. I open up the piano, and tentatively press the C key, and a slightly off-pitch, but still beautiful sound rings out. I pull out the stool and sit down, trying to recall a song from my youth. My hands rest on the starting chord, and the notes, as well as the words, come back to me immediately,

"_If I loved you...time and again I would try to say, all I'd want you to know...If I loved you, words wouldn't come in an easy way. 'Round in circles I'd go._" I play the short break in between verses, "_Longing to tell you, but afraid, and shy, I'd let my golden chances pass me by...Soon you'd leave me, off you would go, in the mist of day. Never, ever, to know...how I loved you…_"

My hands freeze as I hear the door creak open. Oswald peeks in through the doorway, "You...you play the piano?"

I nod, smiling, "Yeah, a little."

He grins, but I notice his eyes shift around rapidly. Is there something wrong?

"May I ask what you and your mother talked about?"

With a flick of his head, his eyes stop shifting, "Oh, nothing important." his tone is innocent and sweet, too much so.

"Uhuh." I nod in disbelief.

I make room for him on the piano stool, and he sits down next to me. Our bodies touch, as we both keep near the center of the piano. Oswald's hands grace the piano, and he starts playing a haunting melody that requires no words. I instinctively lean against him, resting my head against his shoulder. I know I shouldn't, this is exactly what I warned Oswald about. Intimacy, physical closeness. But, as he responds, leaning his head against mine, I realize that, even if we retained a Puritan level of restraint, Mrs. Cobblepot will still hold me with discontent because the physical intimacy is a reflection of, of something more. No, no it isn't, what I am saying?

"So, what're your plans for the morning?" he asks, just barely concealing a malous in his tone.

"Well, I'm going to go to the bank and get some money, then I'm going to go call a friend. Speaking of that, do you know of any payphones in the area?"

"No, and we don't have a phone in the house." he grumbles.

I sigh, "Oh well, I'm sure I'll find one. Maybe I'll ask the clerk while at the bank."

"Will you be living close to here?" he asks, his voice lightening.

"I don't know." I confess, "Guess that depends on if I can find a place-"

"There are several motels in the area, I can show you them." he offers.

I roll my eyes, "And yet you can't recall the location of a single payphone."

"I just...would like to stay in touch." he ends the song in a slow ritardando, dramatically hitting the final chords. He closes the piano, "It's getting quite late. Shall we to bed?" we get up and he closes the screen door. He sits down on his bed and pats the spot next to him, but I arch my eyebrow, and put my hands on my hips. He sighs, "Fine, but that couch is awfully uncomfortable."

"I'll manage."

I exit his room and collect Mrs. Cobblepot's nightgown that I'd worn last night. I walk back into Oswald's room to change and realize he's...already...changing…

I look away as he turns around. Peeking through my hands, I see that he's only shirtless, and despite his small frame, he's actually somewhat muscular, somewhat...attractive, even with his abnormally pale skin. He sees me peeking, and smiles triumphantly. I shy away, closing the door. No, no, no, I shouldn't be thinking of him like this, I _can't_think of him like this. My first priority should be scouting for potential members for Amanda's Suicide Squad, which I have not been doing at all. I've been so wrapped up in this man that I hardly know and yet...my heart swells at his touch. Am I really so desperate for human interaction that I've let in a man with psychopathic tendencies and a Freudian complex with his mother? No, I need to get out as soon as I can, sever all ties, and continue with my mission.

Oswald opens the door, fully dressed thankfully, "I'm...so sorry about that. I...I was careless."

"No, no, I was the careless one." I blame, "I'll...I'll go change now."

Just as I'm about to close the door, he pushes his foot in between the door, stopping it, "I have to ask, did you like what you saw?"

I freeze in place, play it cool, keep cool. I grin suggestively, "If you're fishing for a compliment, you're going to have to try harder than that."

He twists his lip, "...challenge accepted."

****Author's Note: A reader by the name of SnowFrost13 suggested the ship name "Pixie" for PenguinxTrixie. Personally, I like the name, but I know Gotham viewers know him better as Oswald Cobblepot, so I'd like your opinion on that. Also, Robin Lord Taylor and Donal Logue were in my hometown last week for the Giants game, didn't get to see them though :(****

****Songs on the piano: ****

****If I Loved You - Carousel 1956 (song Natalie/Trixie sings)****

****Moonlight Sonata (Sonata 14) by Beethoven (song Oswald plays)****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: Yes, I wasn't sure how many people would know Ed, so I'm keeping his appearances to a minimum for now. I based the dove story and the drawing Natalie/Trixie finds off of the ******_**Penguin: Pain and Prejudice**_******mini-series and also from his origin in ******_**Secret Origins**_******. And also, that bathtub scene? I always watch Gotham with my dad, and when that came on he switched the channels, saying that I'm "too young" to be watching something like that.****

****Lola93091: Hmm...I can see why. I cut quite a bit of extra stuff from that chapter because it was already so long (it's the longest chapter in the story to date). And yes, Oswald is clearly going to change, seeing how he is in the show compared to how he is here, but the change will come slowly, with multiple elements in play.****

****MugglebornPrincesa: Lol, that sounds interesting, but a "painted lady" usually refers to a woman in heavy makeup, and is often used as a youthamism for a prostitute. Also, I was thinking of an alternative storyline where Natalie/Trixie and Mrs. Cobblepot have some bonding time together in which Natalie reintroduces her to the outside world set to the song "Welcome to the 60's" from Hairspray.****

****Thanks! :)****


	9. Penguin's Umbrella

Chapter 9

I wake up early, the morning sky a dull grey with only a hint of blue somewhere in the mix. Getting dressed in the living room, I make my way to the door. I hesitate just as I reach for the doorknob. Looking behind me, I see the door to Oswald's room. I cross the room and carefully crack open the door to his room. I see Oswald asleep on one side of his double bed. I sigh, he'd be worried if I left without telling him, but if I wake him up, he'll probably follow me, and I don't want that either. I slowly close the door and walk out into the living room. Now's my chance, I can bail out of here for good, get out while I can, and continue my mission as if nothing had happened. I grasp the front door, carefully opening it, and step through, closing it behind me.

The teller at the bank points me toward a pay phone station on 4th and Grundy. I keep a steady pace, glancing over my shoulder every once in a while. As my feet hit the pavement, a second set of footsteps just a little out of sync with mine joins me. Is someone following me? I stop momentarily and pretend to check my purse, and the second set of footsteps picks up its pace before stopping completely. Uhuh. I arrive at my destination, a section of payphones in the middle of a public courtyard. A large marble statue of Alan Wayne sits at the center, dozens of pigeons perched atop his imposing figure. I pick up the first phone and input the appropriate amount of quarters. The other line picks up after one two rings,

"Natalie, why haven't you contacted me?!" Amanda's demanding voice shouts through the phone.

"Believe me Amanda, it's a long story. You really should've provided me with a cell phone."

"Absolutely not. Too easy to trace, you know that. And besides, it's Gotham, they still have pay phones. So Natalie, tell me, what have you been up to?"

I tell her everything, even about Oswald, it's never a good idea to keep anything from Amanda.

"It's good you got out while you could. This Oswald Cobblepot doesn't show up anywhere on our records, so he's definitely not the one you want to be starting with. As for the apartment, I suggest you return to the scene of the crime to investigate, something may be wrong. Now, for your mission I've arranged to have one of my contacts get you a job at one of Falcone's nightclubs. You are to meet him this evening at Mooney's Nightclub."

Thank goodness, that's much easier than trying to get in on my own, "That place down in the lower Theatre District? Will do Amanda."

"Good. Remember, only the best of the best. And don't be afraid to take your time, I want to be sure these candidates are the correct choices. Waller out."

I hang up the phone. I look up as it starts raining. Great, I should've brought a raincoat, it's always raining in Gotham. I'm about to turn around when a cold, sharp object sticks at my back, "Wallet and valuables, lady. You know the drill." a gruff voice states just behind me.

I put my hands up, "Alright." my response is no more than a whisper. I reach down for my purse, and whip around, knocking the knife out of his hand and throwing out one of my metal marbles. The moment it connects, it explodes in his face, the loud popping sound causing a ringing in my ear. I take this opportunity to make a run for it, racing out of the open plaza and into a nearby alley. Darting in, my feet pound against the puddles on the wet concrete. I climb the fence, using my heels to dig into the spots in between the wires. Clearing the fence, I make a sharp turn right into a smaller alley-

"Agh!" I crash Oswald, slamming against his chest and throwing me back several steps. I look up, and his mouth is a gap with surprise, "Trixie I…! Wha...what are you doing here?"

"I could be asking you the same thing." I reply.

His eyes shift around, "This...this is where I buy my cannoli."

I glance around suspiciously, "In a dark alleyway?"

He looks down and stifles, clutching an open umbrella in one hand, "You're hurt."

I look down at my left hand and see that I'm bleeding from a gash made when I pushed away the robber's knife, "Oh, yeah...I'll be alright. It's just a scratch."

He reaches into his suit jacket and takes out a white handkerchief, "Here, wrap it with this."

"Thanks…" I mumble, tentatively taking it and binding my wound in it.

He moves his umbrella slightly forward so that it covers me, "You'll catch cold if you're not careful."

I smile, "Thanks, but I think I'll be alright."

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?" he asks, as we start walking out of the alley.

"I, I didn't want to wake you." is my excuse.

He nods, although I don't think he believes me, "And where are you off to now?"

"I just have to find that room." well, there really is no getting rid of this guy, is there? Well, I guess if he insists on sticking around, I might as well make the most of it, "...wanna help?"

"Indeed, actually, I was speaking with the manager in my building-"

"Those men who barged into your home last night?"

He shakes his head, "No, those gentlemen are the landlords. They just collect the money. Anyway, he said that there's a room available in the complex just a floor above where Mother and I live."

I pause, grinning, "You're suggesting I live there?"

"It'll be great, trust me! It's the same size as ours, but you'll have it all to yourself, and the manager agreed to lower the price since you're a friend."

Well, that does sound good, while I'm not exactly hard up for cash...you never know when you're gonna need some extra money. But...is it the greatest idea to live near Oswald and his mother?

"That's...that's very thoughtful of you. I...well, I could take a look at it."

He smiles, "Well then, lets not waste any time then, shall we?"

We walk down Gotham City's soggy streets as the rain lightens up just a little. Oswald scraps his open hand against my uninjured one, and tries to hold it. I push my hand away, but not before my fingers brush against his palm. He looks at me, his creased smile and narrowed eyes hinting at a sense of both understanding and frustration. My heart races, but I keep my hand away from him, he and I might be allies, friends even, but it could never go beyond that...not ever.

****Dreamweaver74: Lol thanks, that was sort of just meant to be a throwaway line to end the chapter, but since people are taking such note of it, I might just entertain them on that ;).****

****Phox: Well, Natalie/Trixie is the only one in the current cast of main characters that has any kind of formal combat training. Both Oswald and Mrs. Cobblepot are not physically intimidating, and would be a liability if she were to have started a fight.****

****Shadow Cat Mistress: Oh, Fur Elise, if I ever find a context for that song I'll use it. While I can't play the piano, I can play instruments (violin and viola), sing, and read music. ****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: Yes, they will have a lot in common, and I'm currently trying to drum up both scenarios he could use to impress her and compliments for her to use (do you know how hard it is to compliment a psychopath? At least for me anyway).****

****Thanks! :)****


	10. I'm Not Going Anywhere

Chapter 10

I follow Oswald back to the apartment complex, the depressing grey interior not doing much to quell my nervous indecision. Oswald however, holds a confident smile, as he slowly begins speeding up his pace, in a rush to get to his destination.

We reach his floor, then go up one more flight to find a thin, pale man lying against the doorway. His eyes are bloodshot, and his hands are jittery. Is he on something?

"The room's all yours. Just hand over this month's rent." he grumbles, holding out his hand.

"...may I see the room first?" I ask sharply, crossing my arms.

He pushes the door open to reveal a dimly lit room, with windows on the right side and a small kitchen in the corner, the same as Oswald's apartment. Except this room is completely empty, save an old record player in the corner. Wow, does every apartment in this building come with one of those?

I step in, my low heels sounding off against the thin wooden floors. There's still two bedrooms, and I have no idea what I'd do with the second one. Heh...what would I do with a second bedroom? I've never had to think about that before. Even when I lived in a consistent house, the issue was always not having enough space for things.

I open the door to the bedroom on the left, the one that mirrors Mrs. Cobblepot's room. I look behind me momentarily to see Oswald reaching for one of the old records under the record player. I smile, he certainly loves his music. I look back at the room just as the song starts. There's already a simple double bed in the center of the room, but nothing more. The floors have a light layer of dust coveting them, and the dark, decrepit wooden floors and walls match those in the hallway, but otherwise, there's not that much to complain about. There's another door to the left, and I push it open, revealing a master bathroom, with windows at the back and a large, cauldron-like tub in the center. A bathtub? Seems kind of decadent for an apartment, wouldn't a shower save more water?

A hand places itself on my shoulder, "So...is it to your liking?" Oswald asks, as if it's him trying to sell me the apartment.

"Yeah, it is." I confess. It's certainly better than some of the other places I've lived throughout my life.

"So then, why don't we go outside and pay the nice man this month's rent?" he coaxes.

I turn around, and he pulls his hand off of me, but still retains a bright smile. I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes, "You really want this, don't you?"

He looks away for a brief second, "Well...what could be better than...than being neighbors with your best friend…" he jumps, realizing what "I...I mean, your most trusted ally!"

I sigh, lightening my expression. As much as I need to keep this guy at bay, there are times when I feel really, really sorry for him, "You...you're trying to please me, aren't you?"

"I realize that my approach was too direct." he explains, stepping out of the bedroom as I follow him into the living room, "And…" he chuckles with a twisted smile, "And I can't win you with faulty methods, now can I?"

On the outside, I lean against the doorway, raising an eyebrow in utter disbelief at the irony in his statement, but on the inside, my heart skips a beat, and I feel an uncomfortable warmth in my chest, "What if I can't be won?"

He abruptly rushes up to me, grabbing my hands into his, a look of desperation in his eyes,

"Doubt thou the stars are fire,

Doubt that the sun doth move,

Doubt truth to be a liar,

But never doubt that I..."

He stops there, but his lips still move, as if he can't quite bring himself to say the final word. I blush, and smile, remembering that being from one of the last scenes of Hamlet Ozwald and I read together before falling asleep that first night. If he thinks he's gotten me with his ham-fisted use of Shakespeare well...he's right. My hands leave his, but not to push away, but to glide up to his shoulders as I lead my body towards his. He slowly unfolds his hands, allowing them to wrap themselves around my waist. We look at each other, both of our shoulders rising and lowering in-sync as breathing quickens at an equal pace. He leans in...and I lean in, and we kiss, his nose awkwardly grinding against my right cheek.

"Oh...I'm...I'm sorry." he apologizes meekly, shying back.

I shouldn't be doing this, I could get into so much trouble with Amanda, engaging in any sort of romantic affair, no less while on a mission, is highly unprofessional. But then again, technically I'm not working for the government anymore, and, and when have I ever had a shot at something like this? Embarrassing as it is, that was my first kiss. Someone like me just doesn't get many opportunities for romance, despite what movies will tell you.

Tilting my head to the left to avoid his nose, I lean in, instigating another kiss. He responds immediately, gripping me tightly. We pull each other closer, enjoying the comforting warmth of each other's embrace.

Finally, I pull away, wiping his saliva off of my lips. Oswald stares at me in disbelief, but also with a naive sense of joy, "I've...I've, never kissed anyone before. Well, except for Mother of course but...never like that. Does this mean...?"

"I don't know…" I admit.

"Damn dude." we both turn around to see the drugged out manager by the front doorway, grinning and bobbing his head, "You two went _at it_."

"Just a simple courtship, I assure you." Oswald replies, straightening his suit, "Now, I believe she'll be taking the apartment." he pulls out my wallet and takes out the appropriate amount of cash, placing it in his hands, "All yours."

"Did you just steal my wallet?!" I realize, snatching it back from him.

He turns around, smiling mischievously as the manager walks away with the cash, "It was just a little insurance..." he paces back over to me, his arms beginning to slide around my waist, "My dear."

I pull away, making my way toward the door, "No, this doesn't change anything between us! I'm sorry Oswald, but I...I don't know if a relationship between us would work."

He turns me towards him, taking my hands into his, "Well, how will you know for certain if you don't try?"

How could I even begin to answer that question?

"I...I'm sorry I...I just need some time to think things over, okay?" I tell him, squeezing his hands. I pause for just a moment before letting go, and making my way to the door. Behind me, Oswald nods, "Alright."

I leave the door open for him, and make my way down the stairs. At least I've got him off of my back. Maybe I should just make a run for it now, find room over near the theater district where Mooney's Nightclub is, and be done with Oswald Cobblepot. But...that kiss. I could never quite imagine what a kiss would feel like, and now I know. It's primal and unrestrained, but also tactile and precise. No...no, I need something, anything, to get my mind off of this. Amanda is going to kill me...Amanda, didn't she suggest to return to the scene of the crime? The motel where the fire happened. She suspected something was fishy about that fire...but then again, she suspects something's wrong with everything. Well, it's something to do, and I should also prepare for tonight, my meet up with Amanda's contact at Mooney's Nightclub. Maybe get a new dress, something more business appropriate. I wonder what Oswald would think...no, no, what he thinks doesn't matter, what matters is the mission. The blood begins to drain out of my face, and I finally am able to compose myself. Alright, focus, you need, to focus…

"Natalie?"

****Author's Note: So...I took Wattpad's #justwriteit challenge, so you'll be seeing a lot of updates from me in the next thirty days (also because I just took the SATs and I need to destress).****

****Song on the record: "People Will Say We're In Love" from ******_**Oklahoma **_******(song Oswald plays on the record)****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: I agree, "I Won't Say I'm In Love" from Disney's ******_**Hercules **_******comes to mind when writing her conflicting emotions. And don't worry, there'll be plenty to come between them ;)****

****Lola93091: Lol, to quote Thor, "Another!". And I think Natalie/Trixie fighting her true feelings is totally natural, considering that Oswald is already kind of...off, and the fact that she's not in Gotham to fall in love, even if that's what happens anyway ;)****


	11. Let the Games Begin

Chapter 11

"Ed?" I turn around, recognizing that distinct, slightly nazzly tone.

A tall, slender man with dark hair, brown eyes, and an ever-enthusiastic smile steps out of the shadows, "So...our paths cross once more."

After all I've been through in these past couple of days, or even in the few years we've been apart, it's good to finally see something familiar. I smile, "So they have."

He turns around, pointing to the alley he stepped out of, "Check this out. I was taking a walk when I discovered this."

That's Ed, formalities always seem to elude him. I follow him into the alley, and with a he points to the stained brick wall of an apartment building, "...what do you see?"

I scratch my chin, "I see, the side wall of an apartment...the stain, judging by the poignantly rust-like smell in the air, I'd say that's blood-"

"And it's fresh." Ed points out.

"And it's quite large as well, notice the contours of the stain. Not counting the places where the blood has dripped down, it appears to have the same outlines of a human being."

Ed nods, "My conclusion exactly. But here's the question: where's the body?"

I look down at our feet, "No blood trail. Nothing to follow."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong Natalie. You notice how it was raining just earlier today? Well, if there were footsteps, umbrellas, or anything that could contract and then release water anywhere in this area, their feet will have redistributed the rainwater, hence, leaving a thin trail for us to follow."

I put my hands on my hips, "That sounds highly theoretical."

"But that's what's so wonderful about theories: they're meant to be tested!" Ed exclaims. He looks down at the mostly dry ground, but in the three way intersection of the alley, there's one path that still has trails of water on it, "Bingo."

We start following the trail of water, leading into the labyrinth of alleyways located in practically all of Gotham's streets. The dark buildings tower over us, and the various fire-escapes and clothing lines further block out any hint of sunshine.

"So Ed, what have you been up to lately?" I ask him. Normal conversation with him is rather awkward, it's the mysteries, the detective work he lives for, but I could hardly call myself the normal one out of the two of us.

"Well, I graduated from GothamU last year with masters in forensic science and criminology, and I just got a job working for the GCPD as a coroner." he reveals, adjusting his thick-framed glasses.

"Hey, that sounds great Ed, although, the GCPD is a...weird choice. You looking to get rich off of bribes or something?"

"I feel that I could of great use to them. That department is starved of intelligent minds, and they're in desperate need of those with the brains capable of leading them into the future." he explains, his tone reverent and almost theatrical.

I smirk, "Well, if that's how you feel, Ed-"

"What about you? What have you been up to these past years?" he asks, as we turn the corner, continuing to follow the trail.

I look down at the trail, and see small specks of red blood mixed in with the water, he might be on to something.

"Not much really. I never ended up finishing college." I confess.

Ed gasps, and his expressive eyes all but bulged out of their sockets, "What?! How very uncharacteristic of you, tell me, what has led to this change?"

Can I tell him about my work with the CIA? Ed doesn't like secrets, he knows basically everything about me, and visa versa, "I don't know, guess my heart wasn't in it." I lie.

He twists his lips, pulling out a black pen from the front pocket of his dark blue jacket. He toys with the pen, twirling it around in various directions, he clearly doesn't believe me if he's pulling out the pen,

"Some use me, while others do not.

Some remember, while others have forgot.

For profit and gain I'm used expertly, I can't be picked off the ground or tossed in the sea.

Only gained through patience and time, can you unravel my rhyme?"

I smile, he's used this one on me before, "Knowledge."

He smiles back, but continues to twist his pen in his hands, "Yes Natalie, knowledge is the primary thing I seek in life, and to not know something about my oldest and most dear friend...well…" there's a strange glimmer in his eye, but his grin remains, "You'd see why this upsets me?"

"This isn't a game this time, Ed, I really can't tell you."

His gleeful expression fades, "I see...well then…"

The reach a dead end in the alley, where, behind a dumpster, a lifeless body of a man in a sharp suit lies. Neither of us has a visible reaction, but we glance at each other, silently deciding who should speak first.

"An unceremonial burial, to say the least. He's in a suit, so this either has to be mob related-"

I roll my eyes, "Ed, this is Gotham, a lot of men still wear suits on a regular basis. He could be anyone."

"Then why would the assailants go through the trouble of hiding the body? Most muggers simply flee the scene, these guys knew what they were doing."

I nod, "Alright, well Mr. GCPD, are you going to call this in?"

"I suppose so, but since I am on my off-hours, they won't let me analyze him further. Trust me, I've tried."

Analyze? Hmm...this gives me an idea, "Hey Ed, I have something, an investigation, I could use your help on."

His head perks up, "What's the case?"

"Well, when I arrived back at Gotham, I rented out a motel room in Southside, the trouble is, it burnt after a night of me staying there. I have a feeling that the fire was intentional, but I can't be certain until I investigate the scene. I was on my way there when I ran into you."

"That does sound suspicious, but, who would want to burn down you place of residence? Natalie...are you in some kind of trouble?" he asks worriedly.

"No Ed, I'm fine. Who knows, it could've just been a play to collect insurance money or something. It just...doesn't feel right is all."

He puts his pen back in his pocket, "Alright, I'll assist you, but be aware that I will solve this enigma eventually. It is in my namesake, after all."

I chuckle, "That is an...oddly appropriate name for you."

"If only you weren't the only to notice." he grins at her.

We reach the burnt down complex within minutes. The building's structure still stands, but small, individual chunks of it have already begun to crumble. I try the doors, and find them wide open, guess the owner forgot to lock up. We enter, and see that the graffiti artists have already gone to work, spray paintings of crude signatures lie all around the lobby. Ed and I check all the obvious spots where the fire could've started, the kitchen, the fireplace in the lobby, the heating system in the basement, but nothing seems to hold the source of the fire. But then, just as we're about to give up, I get a sickening hunch,

"Ed, I have one more place I think we should check." I tell him.

"Yes Natalie, this heating system is very antiquated, even for Gotha-...what did you say?" he asks, looking up from examining the piping of the heating system. Usually he can predict my responses, or even my interjections, but not this time.

"Follow me." I instruct, climbing the narrow staircase leading out of the basement.

We reach the motel's second floor, where I run up to the room I was in. I try the door, but then realize that I'd lost the motel key sometime before the fire happened. Figuring the door's security has been weakened by the fire, I stand back, and kick the door open.

"What, no bobby pins?" Ed asks disappointedly.

I shrug, "Don't have any on me."

Looking over my shoulder, Ed notices something immediately, and gently pushing me aside, shuffles to a peculiar spot in the middle of the room, "Natalie, check this out!"

I rush to meet him as he gets down on one knee and lowers his glasses, "This is it...this is definitely the origin of the fire." he concludes, pointing to the spot on the ground. He takes out a pair of black gloves and stretching them on, picks up the remains of a small match, "Someone must have thrown this into the room, judging by the angle." he smiles, "Good, we've established a location. Tell me Natalie, how did you know the fire was started here?"

"I...I didn't." I confess, "This...this was my room."

His smile vanishes as the realization also comes about him. He places the match back on the ground, "C'mon, we need to get you out of here." he takes off his gloves, and placing one hand on my shoulder and one on my back, he leads me out of the building.

As we leave the building, a familiar man shouts, "Hey you!" I turn around, and recognize the man as the guy who checked me in at the hotel.

"Oh, hey." I greet, as Ed takes his hands off of me.

"You're the girl who saved those kids, right?" he asks.

I nod slowly, and his expression brims, "Good for you, those boys were regular residents in that old apartment. Would've been terrible if anything had happened to them, thank you so much."

"No...no problem." I reply awkwardly.

"Say, it's a good thing you checked you out of there right before the fire." he mentions.

I arch my head back in surprise, "I did?"

He reaches into his pocket and takes out my motel room key, "Yeah, your friend said he was checking out for you, he gave me your key. Had your stuff and everything."

I freeze in both terror and revelation, "My...my friend?"

"Yeah, the guy with the emo hair and fancy suit. I swear he was giving me the evil eye the whole time, like he hated me or something." he rubs his head, "Come to think of it, he checked out _right_before the fire. That's odd…"

I begin backing away, "Oh no…"

Ed grabs my hand as I try to steady myself. That friend the man mentioned, that has to be Oswald, he started the fire...and he has my stuff too, so, does that mean he knows?

"We'll be off, have a nice day sir." Ed excuses, as he begins to pull me away.

****Author's Notes: There's a poll on my profile pitting Pixie (Penguin x Trixie) against another couple from my Spider-Man fanfic. Go vote for Pixie (or if you read both stories, pick your favorite!). ****

****Dreamweaver74: Thanks, I was particularly worried about that scene because I was worried no one would take it seriously (personally, I have trouble taking it seriously).****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: It's Ed! Hehe, and don't worry, Oswald and Natalie/Trixie will have plenty of time to practice ;)****

****Shadow Cat Mistress: Yes, I wish Oswald would quote the Bard on the show, that would make my day (I got his interest in Shakespeare from the comics and Oswald's actor even mentioned it in an interview).****

****Thanks! :)****


	12. Behind the Shadows

Chapter 12

I follow Ed about a block or so before we stop. He turns around, letting go of my hand, clearly expecting some kind of explanation.

"Alright Ed, I think you now have enough information to piece this one together yourself." I conclude.

He takes out his pen, and starts clicking it inscenently, "Well, we now know who started the fire, your so-called friend. He also has your stuff as well, but what I'm missing is a motivation. He clearly didn't want to kill you, since he started the fire while you were away...revenge perhaps?"

"I don't think so Ed, I've only known him a couple of days." I confess.

His jaw goes slack, and he stops clicking his pen, standing still for a couple of seconds, processing this information, "Oh Natalie, you're not suggesting…"

I nod slowly, but Ed quickly interrupts, "Natalie, this is wonderful!"

I lurch back in surprise, "Wha...what do you mean?"

"Natalie, all these years I've known you, you've always avoided people, even me, rendering any possibility of romantic interaction...improbable. But now, you've encountered someone who's not only interested, but whom you literally can't shake off! It's the perfect combination!"

I sigh, Ed can be very, very strange at times, and why is he giving me advice? I probably have more friends than he does, albeit not by very many.

"Listen Ed, I have to be somewhere in a couple of hours, and I need to get ready. It was really great seeing you again." I excuse myself, realizing I am indeed expected at Mooney's Nightclub in a few hours.

"Wait...you still have my address, correct?" he asks, "If you could give me yours, we could start writing letters to one another again."

That's right, we exchanged letters quite often while I was still in college, but once I joined the CIA, the letters had to stop.

"Alright." I don't feel uncomfortable giving Ed my new address, it's Ed, what's he going to do with that other than send letters?

"Farewell for now, Natalie." he waves, as I walk off in the opposite direction.

I quietly slip back into my apartment, closing the door and locking it shut. With a small bag containing my new dress for tonight, I make my way to the master bathroom to quickly wash up. On the way, I notice in the master bedroom there's a fire escape right by the window. Descending down a flight would lead straight to Oswald's apartment...and why do I care?! Okay, yes, he has my stuff, and it would be nice to have it back, but who knows if I'll even find it if I looked?

I sigh, there's no way around it, I have to check. But if there's any sign of life in that apartment, I make a run for it immediately. Opening the window, I carefully step out and into the fire escape, the cold Gotham wind whipping my hair. Descending the ladder to the floor below, I leap down and see the window to Mrs. Cobblepot's room. Nobody's in the room, but this isn't the room I want to be searching anyway. Leaning over one end of the fire escape, I see Oswald's room is also empty, and I push open the window of the room next door. Slowly, and cautiously, I scaled the brick ledge between the two rooms. I safely make it to the other side, and jump in, my heels landing silently on the hardwood floor. Now...if I had a large suitcase, where would I hide it? Maybe he didn't keep the suitcase, maybe he didn't keep anything at all. I look under the bed, and find nothing but a small collection of shiny shoes, all neatly polished and in a row. Going through his books isn't an option, even though his collection is vast, it's not big enough to hide a suitcase in. There's only one more place to look: the closet. I pull back the screen to reveal the piano and his array of dark suits, but the screen pulls back just a little bit more, just enough space for a person to squeeze through. Turning sideways, I manage to fit myself in between the space, and I barely take one step more when I trip on something, and feel myself falling. At the last moment, I grab the piano, catching myself at a diagonal angle. Pulling myself up, I realize that what I'd tripped on was indeed...my suitcase.

I lower myself to open it when two arms clasp around my lower face and neck, pulling me to the back of the closet. A cold hand presses itself against my mouth, while the other wraps itself around my waist. I kick with my legs, hoping to get a footing and throw him off, but he pulls me closer,

"Hush, my little bird, or she'll hear you."

The door to Oswald's room opens with a deafening *creak*, "Ozzy? Are you still sulking in your closet again? It's almost supper dear, and that crackpot slut isn't coming back, so you can come out now."

"Leave me alone Mother!" Oswald shrieks, his tone far different from the cooing, sensitive one he'd just used.

There's a silent pause, that must have had an effect on her, "Oh...oh, alright, but you know your Mother is here for you." there's footsteps, and the door slowly closes shut.

The moment she closes that door I leap out of Oswald's arms and scramble for the closet exit, but Oswald wrestles my ankle back and I fall the ground. Climbing on top of me, he reaches out and closes the screen shut, concealing us completely in darkness.

I try to lift him off of me, but he pins my arms down to the floor, knocking my head against the wooden panels. He brings his head up close to my ear, and whispers,

"I knew you'd come back, Natalie." he chuckles, brushing his hand through my hair, "But you know, you don't look like a Natalie. I prefer Trixie so much more."

So he knows who I am, great. He probably saw my driver's license or passport in the suitcase. I want to call him insane, maybe kick him a couple of times for good measure, but, with my arms pinned down, and his entire weight pressed against my stomach and legs, that really doesn't seem like a possibility right now. Even with his body semi-crushing mine, I have to admit, I like the warmth he gives off, and my heart's still pounding from him catching my by surprise. But...it shouldn't, no, I need to steady myself, take a couple of hits to let his guard down, and find an opportunity to escape.

"Oh, don't get the wrong idea, I'm not mad at you. In fact, I want to help you." he explains, his lips scraping against my neck.

I'd reply but his meaty hand is still clasped against the lower half of my face. While I can hardly see a thing in the darkness, the gleeful, giddy chuckles coming from Oswald make his intentions clear as day as he continues to comb his hand through my hair, while keeping the other one secure against my lips.

"So Trixie, I'm going to let you up now, and you're not going to run, because I will catch you...or maybe I could call that little phone number you've been so kind to leave in your suitcase, hm? I'm sure Ms. Waller would be very disappointed to know that you've been discovered so soon."

I grimace as Oswald lifts up the upper part of his body to turn on a light. The dull glow of a single gas lamp flickers on, revealing not only the array of suits visible from the entrance, but also a whole side area hidden from view by the piano and the screen. This area, similar to his room, is covered in papers with detailed pencil sketches. But instead of birds, these drawings are much more graphic. Pictures of shadowy men beating a small boy, boiling a man alive, and many other horrendous scenes decorate the walls. The people are all male, and are all drawn in a Renaissance style.

Oswald carefully lifts his hand off of my mouth, but still continues to press his entire weight against me, "Are you going to get off of me?"

He pauses, releasing one of my arms to brush his thumb against my cheek, "I should, shouldn't I? But...think of the possibilities, we could have so much _fun_…"

With my free arm, I grab my knife and swing it out, holding it to his throat, "I don't think so."

He gets up, holding both arms in the air, but his expression remains cocky and suggestive, "You wouldn't dare, you like me, don't you?"

I rush him, pinning him against the closet wall, sticking the blade at the base of his chin, "Who says I won't?"

"Mother is in the other room, and you know you'll be the first to blame should anything happen to me, so unless you want the police on your hands…" he leans his head forward and arches his head up, closing his eyes and sniffing the small space between us, "Mmm…"

What's happened to the shy, timid Oswald I'd met not days before? I glance around at the macabre artwork hidden away in his closet. Clearly he doesn't want anyone to see this stuff, and I start to wonder if even his mother is aware of it. Is this who Oswald really is?

He pulls his head away, reopening his sharp green eyes, speaking in a whispery, gentle tone, "Now, I have a plan, to get the both of us what we want, okay?"

"Go on." I reply, carefully lifting my arms off of him and putting away my knife.

"No, no, no, keeps your arms there." he insists.

I place my hands where they'd just been, one on each shoulder. Leaning against the wall, Oswald bends at the knees, lowering both him and myself down to the floor, never once breaking eye contact. We end in a sitting position, with my arms still on him. He reaches over and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me in slowly. I comply against my best judgement, if he really is going to be of help, I should probably start playing nice. He rests my head in his lap, and he looks down at me, grinning ear to ear and cradling me with both arms. I smile back, both interested in hearing his proposal, and ruefully enjoying his hands cupping my head and knees.

"Good, now that we're comfortable, here's what we will do."

**Author's Note:**

**weirdandoutrageous: Thanks, my prime concern is always staying true to the characters, and hopefully I've accomplished that.**

**Dreamweaver74: Sorry, but Oswald's been a bad boy :(**

**Guest: Lol, I don't think I can update once everyday for four days straight, but I will update more regularly if the story continues to get the level of attention it is right now.**

**MugglebornPrincesa: Yeah...well, at least Natalie/Trixie doesn't have to buy new stuff :P**

**Fuchsia Grasshopper: Yes, that's exactly what I was going for with Ed, I actually find him more attractive than Oswald personally, it's just that Oswald makes for a more interesting character study.**

**Guest: Thanks, hope you like this newest chapter.**

**Thanks! :)**


	13. Fish Mooney

Chapter 13

"You're insane," is my response to his plan, "but also...kind of a genius." I'm pressed up against him, my back lying against his stomach, his arms around me.

"Oh, was that a compliment I heard?" Oswald coos, pulling me closer.

"It was a compliment to your plan, not to you." I counter, although he's right, I did mean to compliment him.

"Hmph, I'll take it." he concludes, smiling in satisfaction.

I look down at his hands that are wrapped around my lower stomach. While I love the warmth and general good feelings I seem to get whenever we touch...wow his fingernails are dirty.

I begin to get up, "Alright, if we're ever going to execute this plan, we've got to be heading over to Mooney's Nightclub soon."

He grabs my arm and pulls me back down so that I awkwardly land on his leg. Dragging me against his chest, he keeps his arms tightly fastened around my stomach, "Just...just give me a minute. Please?"

I turn and look him in the eye, and he responds with a pouty, puppy-dog look. I squint, okay, now he's just being manipulative. He leans forward, lowering his head, and gets as close as our lips briefly touching before I pull away,

"No...no Oswald."

He pauses thoughtfully, resting his chin on his hand, "Oh Trixie…how you'll grow to regret those words."

Oswald holds out his umbrella for the two of us as it starts to rain again. We walk the night time streets of Gotham's Theatre District, with the pink neon lights of Mooney's Nightclub visible in the distance.

"You were right to bring that umbrella, but I have to ask, do you carry it around with you everywhere you go?" I ask, adjusting my new black dress.

"Mother insists I bring it whenever I go out. She's always worried about me catching cold." he explains, sounding somewhat annoyed.

I arch my eyebrow, "Why do you let your mother control every aspect of your life?"

"Well, Mother knows what's best for me." he reasons.

"You're a grown man, Oswald, you can make your own decisions." I conflict, as we approach the nightclub.

We open the door to a dark, stylish restaurant club, with booths, a bar, and a small stage where two women in slinky lingerie are performing a burlesque dance. The crowd is sizable, with most of the booths filled up. A single man in a worn leather coat and purple button down waves us down, and we approach him. Leaning in, he whispers, "Which one of you is Amanda's agent?"

"That would be me." Oswald introduces politely, shaking hands with the man.

I want to stop him right there, he's coming off as too friendly, the guy probably thinks he's a rookie now.

"Good, and, uh...you are?" he asks me, "Amanda only mentioned one agent."

"Oh, she's with me." Oswald excuses.

The man shakes his head, "Well, my name's Morgan, I'll act as your contact with Amanda from now on. I'll go get Fish Mooney, she's the boss of this place, although I'm not sure if there's another job opening available."

He gets up from the bar, and walks over to a table toward the front of the stage, where a lone woman in a gold lame dress sits with a cocktail drink. He bends down to whisper to her and she turns around, sees us, and gets out of her seat, slowly sauntering towards us in a manner that's both sexy and threatening,

"So, I've found my new umbrella boy," Fish declares, looking over Oswald. She folds her fingers together, netting in her fake nails, "do you know what I did to my last umbrella boy? I had my boys smear him against a wall, and then we dragged his ass to a dumpster,"

My eyes widen as I realize that's the body Ed and I found earlier today. This woman must go through toadies like no other. She glances over at me, snapping me back to the present, "and who are you?"

"I-I'm just looking for work ma'am." I stutter. Shoot, that was a terrible delivery.

She nods, "You've got respect, I like that. But I'd like someone taller than me carrying around my umbrella if you don't mind,"

Ugh, my height, did she really need to bring that up?

"so boy, you still want the job?"

Oswald nods, "Yes, I do."

"Good. And you...girl...well, we could always use more dancers. Can you dance?" Fish asks.

"Yes, she can. I, I can vouch for that." Oswald replies before I can.

I sigh, clenching my teeth, if he messes this up for us…

She smiles, "Oh, you can? What are you two exactly? Lovers, perhaps?"

"Not lovers just, very, very good friends." he explains.

She stares daggers at the both of us, "I see…"

I'd bet money that she's going to try to use our relationship against us, the way she stares at us. She's trying to pick out any weaknesses, any vulnerabilities. And Oswald just unwittingly gave her a very big one.

"well, what the hell, you're both hired." she declares.

I smile, "Thank you so much Ms. Mooney, when do we start?"

"Right now," she snaps her fingers and Morgan rushes to her side, as she lowers her head to mumble, "take the girl to the dressing room, I'll handle the boy," she looks up at us, "I didn't catch your names."

"My name is Oswald Cobblepot." Oswald formally introduces.

Now it's my turn, "I'm Trixie...Trixie Tamaya."

Fish nods, "Good, I'll have you perform at the nine o'clock slot, Trixie. Prepare to impress me. Come along, Oswald."

Oswald complies, glancing back briefly at me. Morgan leads me to a side door by the stage marked _Employees Only_. He holds the door open for me, and enters himself. The door leads to a narrow hallway where three women are leaning against the wall, all dressed in similar red and black lingerie.

"This is Annabelle Sanna, our most seasoned dancer. Ann, this is Trixie, our newest dancer. Could you get her a spare costume? Mooney wants her out onstage right away."

Ann, a tall woman with dark skin and frizzy hair blown up into an afro. She stares me down, sizing me up, "...okay…"

Morgan pats me on the back, before sending me off with Ann. We walk through the hallway in relative silence, and I feel the need to start up some semblance of a conversation,

"So, does this job entail more than just dancing?" I ask her.

She raises her eyebrow, "You're a forward one, aren't you?"

"I just want to know what I'm getting into."

She nods, "Well, we have private rooms upstairs for the clients, but usually they have to be pretty wealthy to request a room with one of us."

Good, as least the first thing she mentions is sex, something that's usually associated with dancing on a stage in provocative clothing. Had she mentioned something concerning violence or the drug trade, I would've had a very different reaction.

I follow Ann to a small storage closet, "What's your size?"

"Small or medium, depends on the clothes."

She finds me something, throwing the article of clothing at me along with a pair of high-heeled boots and fishnet stockings, "If you don't like it, you can pick anything out from the clothes here. Can you sing?"

"Yeah." I reply.

"Good, the band is pretty experienced, so they'll probably know whatever it is you want to sing," she starts walking out of the room, her long legs swaying back and forth, my eyes can't help but wander a little. She turns around, and gives a suggestive wink, "break a leg kid."

****Author's Notes:****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: Yeah, I've been very influenced by the concept of the "Napoleon complex" when writing Oswald's character. And the drawings? Well, Oswald is an artistic guy in my mind.****

****Emily: Thank you, if the popularity continues I might end up posting three days in a row again :3****

****HellsButterfly13: Yes, someone knows the Suicide Squad! And Oswald's plan is how I'll start to really tie into the show.****

****Red: Ohh, long reviews, I love these. For Natalie's age, she's the same age as Ed (early to mid twenties). The reason that line was in the first chapter was because at least to my knowledge, most government agents don't do heavy duty field work long after their early thirties, similar to the military, so yes, by that comparison, she's still got "a few good years left in her". I'm sorry I didn't make that more clear, and I don't think I'll have time to mention it in the story, but I'll certainly try. As for the grammar issues, yes, I write in American English, and thank you for pointing out those mistakes. I know I probably have more, since I'm mostly a self-taught writer, as I've never been taught how to write a proper story (I can however, write at least three kinds of essays). Hope you review again, your feedback was so helpful.****

****Shadow Cat Mistress: I like Oswald's progress in the show as well, a lot of people like him, as shown by the growing group of Oswald fangirls at my school.****

****Thanks! :)****


	14. At Least She Can Sing

Chapter 14

Standing in front of a brightly lit mirror, I hold up the costume Ann gave me. It's a black leather one piece with a matching belt partially sewn on. The label on the back reads: Black Canary Clothing in detailed cursive. I slip this on along with the fishnet stockings and hooker boots. On the dresser attached to the mirror are scattered various accessories and makeup. I choose a black choker necklace as well as a pair of black gloves. Applying eyeliner and a dark colored lipstick, I take a look at the final product in the mirror, memories flooding back of all the times I had to go undercover as a sex worker while I'd worked with the CIA. This can't be too different, right?

"Uhm...you're Trixie, right?" it's one of the waiters, sporting a crisp shirt and velvet red vest. I guess anyone's allowed in the dressing room.

"Yes, and you are…?"

He jumps, having not expected me to ask, "Oh, I'm just one of the waiters. The name's Lazlo. I just came to tell you, you're on in ten."

I nod, "Thank you Lazlo."

"You're welcome, ma'am." he stutters, before quickly exiting.

Strange, the guy seemed nervous for some reason. Maybe that's just his demeanor...or maybe he knows something.

I sneak over to the band and tell them the song I want them to play. They nod, and I disappear behind the curtain, lining myself just offstage.

There's a light applause as I step onstage. I face the audience and see Fish at her personal table, with Oswald standing directly behind her. Our eyes lock and his eyes widen, clearly he did not expect me to be so scantily clad.

My eyes turn to the pianist in the band, I give a slight nod, and the band raises itself to play,

"_Buddie beware, buddie better take care. Though at heart I'm a pearl, I'm a difficult girl, so buddie beware,_" since there's no mic for me, and I don't need one anyway, I play out to the audience, mostly moving my shoulders and hips along with the beat. I start moving about the stage, stepping forward with my legs and continuing to actively move my hips. I make gestures with my hands to indicate the lyrics, "_your devotion I prize, but you must realize my boys, other girls' luxuries are my necessities, so buddie beware,_" there's a dance break, and I start with simple skips, letting my hands go up as I circle the stage. I do a couple of quick turns, before returning center stage for the finish, "_I feel I should put you right, as I lie in bed at night, as the twinkling stars gleam on, with my cold cream on, I'm a lovely sight. And another thing too, when I'm married to you my sweet: if to come home you fail, I'll open all your mail. So, buddie beware!_" I hold the final note for several seconds, ending with my arms outstretched. There's an uproarious applause from the audience, and I take a bow before heading offstage.

"Not bad kid, but I have to say, that outfit would look better on a blonde." Ann compliments, patting me on the back.

"Thanks." I reply, smiling, while still in shock no one threw tomatoes during my performance.

I start walking to the dressing room when Lazlo comes running toward me, "Trixie, Ms. Mooney wants to see you, now."

I bite my lip. This can't be good. I follow him out to the restaurant area, where Fish lies in wait, her chin resting on a dainty finger,

"You were quite good darling, but there's one more test I need you to pass," she gestures to Oswald, who steps forward slightly, "you're aware our girls may occasionally need to apply certain, other talents. I want you and Oswald to go up to one of the private rooms for about, say, an hour or so, and afterwards, I want you," she points to Oswald, "to tell me how it was. Gilzean will show you to your room," she snaps her fingers and a large, jovially smiling in a dark suit walks up to us, "have fun."

The man leads the two of us up the stairs, "So, is this either of your first times?" he asks in a cheerful, boisterous tone.

"Yes." Oswald blurts out, as if he's proud of that fact.

"No." I lie, keeping my voice low.

We come up to a tall, dark wooden door, which blends in perfectly with the dimly lit atmosphere of the hallway and the club itself.

"Well, you heard Mooney, have fun, but, hehe, try not to get too loud, there might be others next door." he opens the door, pushes the two of us in, and closes it, the lock clicking behind us.

My shoulder is touching Oswald's from Gilzean having pushed us through the door. I glance over at Oswald, half expecting him to pounce onto me, but he glances back, his expression almost angry,

"We're faking it, aren-"

I press my finger against his lips, shushing him, swivelling around and hooking my arms around his shoulders, his arms instinctively wrap around my waist, going a little lower than usual. I raise myself so that I whisper in his ear,

"Yes, we're going to fake it, but that pervert Gilzean is probably listening outside, and if Mooney finds out we did, neither of us are going to keep our job. So you are going to moan, and I am going to scream like an animal, but the last thing we're going to be doing is actually doing it."

"Can...can we at least get into the bed?" he asks, gesturing to the black and red double bed in the center of the room.

I raise an eyebrow, "Fine."

Surprisingly, he bends down, picking me up by the back of my knees and shoulders, carries me the short distance required, and throws me onto the bed. I land onto the hard, leather mattress, the light maroon sheets scrunching up against my backside. Oswald anchors himself on top of me, taking off his jacket and throwing it on the ground. He dives in, kissing my lips vigorously, straddling my hips and grasping a little lower than he should be.

I pull his arms off of me, "Slow down," I say aloud. I chuckle, and smile, "let me at least take my shoes off, and you should too."

"Oh...of course." he replies, his eyes darting towards the door.

We get up off of the bed, and as I remove my boots, I glance over at Oswald, his expression sullen, and bitter, "What's wrong? Don't you find this funny?"

He leans in, keeping the volume of his voice low, "I just thought...you'd be comfortable with...you know...you and I-"

"Oswald, I known you for what? Two, three days at most, that's an awfully short time to know someone, don't you think?" I reply in a hushed tone.

He pushes me onto my back, more gently this time, "Romeo and Juliet had declared their love for each other by the third day."

I reach up, brushing his cheek, "Well, we're not exactly in fair Verona, are we?"

"True...but, would you ever...with me?"

I pause, "Honestly...I don't know if I could with anybody."

He nods, "I get it. I mean, when I thought, for just a moment, that we'd actually be doing it...I was scared but...but excited, so, excited."

There's a banging on the door, "Everything okay in there?" Gilzean asks. I knew he was outside.

"Wonderful, Mr. Gilzean." Oswald replies.

"Make her cry for you Oswald, you hear me? I wanna hear her screaming for you."

We lock into each other, our noses touching, and I smirk, trying my best to not laugh as I say audibly, "You heard him Oswald, make me scream."

****Author's Note: I know this chapter was a little...different, what with the "mock lemon" scene. Is it too much for a T rating? Because if so, I'll cut it out entirely if you guys find it inappropriate.****

****Song Natalie/Trixie Sings: "Buddie Beware" from Anything Goes (full song not included for length)****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: Yes, she can sing, since she sang "If I Loved You" a few chapters ago. Also, I think I remember someone referring to him as an "unconventional heartthrob" in an interview with the actor. A friend of mine calls it the "Draco Malfoy Effect", in which people fall for/sympathize with an otherwise irredeemable character.****

****Red: I know it's a lot to ask, but could you review each chapter (not all at once of course, but whenever you have time), as your insight has been so helpful to me, and most other reviewers don't give the same level of feedback. As for your assessment, yeah, over winter break, I should probably go over all of my work and correct my mistakes, since from about chapter 5 onwards I write them under...less than desirable circumstances, and since I also copy/paste from Google Docs, sometimes I get weird errors during the copy/paste process (like awkward paragraph breaks where there shouldn't be, or the entire doc becoming bold, or words be stuck together). But yeah, the missing "y" in "they" is my fault, since I think that error is fixed in the Wattpad version of the story (it's easier to fix errors on that platform, especially with their mobile app). And the awkward phasing is also my fault, partially because it's how I imagine Natalie/Trixie would talk, and partially it's sort of how I talk in real life or at least how the people around me talk. And I specifically had the mobster talk like that because of the accent I imagined him having, (sort of a gruff New York accent) which I now realize I should've clarified in the story. Lastly, while yes, I probably should describe more (in some chapters more than others, since I do like to keep the length from 1000-2000 words per chapter), I'm afraid to describe Natalie/Trixie specifically since the self-insert/roleplay element is so prevalent in the "OC x [insert character]" genre. I do have a very specific image of her, and I do hint at it every now and again but I'm concerned describing her in full detail will disrupt the readers' fantasy fulfillment. I'm sure my you/the readers will correct me if I'm wrong, but that's my current stance on the situation. Once again, thank you for the criticism, I look forward to hearing from you again.****

****Emily: Since we're dipping into the events of the show, it should be easier to predict where this will go, but you never know ;)****

****Thanks! :)****


	15. The Rise of the Penguin

Chapter 15

Well that was...awkward.

I lie in the bed next to Oswald, still fully clothed, or at least as fully clothed as a leather one-piece and fishnets can be. Oswald is without his jacket, and he's also loosened his tie. We're pretty sure Gilzean has stopped listening by now, and our hour is almost up anyway. I turn to him, as he lies silently beside me, staring up at the ceiling. The disheveled look kind of works for him, he looks kind of nice…

I turn away just as quickly as I'd dared to look. Just, focus on something else, anything else-

"You're a good screamer." he comments, followed by a chuckle.

I cringe, not quite sure if I should take that as a compliment or slap him right here and now. That train of thought is interrupted by muffled sounds coming from the other room. One of the voices, the female, is very familiar, the unmistakable low-toned, seductive inflections, although the exact words being exchanged aren't quite audible. I rise from bed and press my ear against the wall, trying to get a better listen.

"Mhm, you've been a naughty boy, haven't you?" it's Fish Mooney's voice, as I suspected.

"I'll...I'll do whatever you say, Ms. Mooney." the timid male voice replies.

Is that...Lazlo? The waiter from earlier.

"Trixie, you might wanna have a look at this." I turn around and see Oswald's out of bed, looking at the mirror on the wall.

I walk over to the other side of the bed, where Oswald stares intently at what appears to be a normal mirror. He reaches over to the corner of the mirror, and with his long fingernails, picks at the edge until the thin adhesive screen comes peeling off. He removes the screen to give a full view of the room next door, where Fish has Lazlo pinned to the bed, their backs turned to us. I quickly lose interest in watching them, and walk back over to the bed.

"Do you think she'd ever do that to me?" he asks, his eyes glued to the actions taking place next door.

I shrug, "Well, you certainly seem like her type."

Oswald flicks his head to face me, "What do you mean?"

"Look at Lazlo. Thin, tall, young, sharp cheekbones, dark hair, fair skin, nervous demeanor, very similar to yourself."

He reapplies the screen and sits down on the bed with me, "Do you...have a type?"

"Don't know, I don't really ever look at people that way."

"But you do."

I sigh, "Well, if I do, I suppress it...to the best of my ability."

He smiles almost knowingly, cupping his chin with his hands, "Why?"

"Because, I'm just not cut out for that sort of thing-"

"Because of your job?" Oswald interrupts. He grabs my wrists, and pushes them into my lap, leaning in toward me, "Well I've got something to tell you Trixie, you're not working for the CIA anymore. You can be free my bird, free to do as you please." he kisses my cheek, his lips sliding down to my neck…

There's a loud banging at the door, "Yo! You two finishing up in there?" it's Gilzean, of course.

I get up to answer the door while Oswald scrambles to collect his jacket and fix his tie.

"Yeah, we're about done." I tell him, opening the door and leaning against the doorway.

Gilzean stuffs his hands in his pockets, examining the situation, "Well, why are you completely dressed? And why isn't he?"

"We finished about five minutes ago," I lie, my expression narrow-eyed and unmoving, "and him? He likes to take his time, if you know what I mean." I give a small smile, and a slight wink.

"Ah...well, just give Fish a moment, she's busy with...business affairs." he excuses.

"Uhuh."

Oswald is fully presentable by the time Gilzean takes us back to the now mostly empty restaurant area. Fish is waiting for us at her usual table. Oswald and I stand before her, and she stares at us, judging our every move,

"So...Oswald, tell me, how was it?"

He stifles before coming up with a response, "E-Exceptional, Ms. Mooney."

She smiles at me, "Good. I'd ask for the details, but I am am a lady you know. I'll be seeing the both of you tomorrow night. Now get out of here, and shower when you get home."

We both nod, and quickly walk out of the restaurant together.

Oswald is practically squealing by the time we're out of the restaurant,

"Haha, yes! She fell for our ploy, don't you think?" he asks, unfurling his umbrella.

"I hope so, but it's hard to say." I respond, putting on a jacket over my normal dress.

He tilts his head down towards mine, "Looks like we'll be living _and_working very close to each other."

"Hey, I'm just happy I can finally start my work." I reply, although it's hard to keep the smile off of my face.

He lifts my cheek up, "You're happy about something else too, aren't you?"

Not really, but I certainly am in a good mood. I gaze at him, his gleeful expression unwavered by the dreary city atmosphere and harsh downpour around us, it's rather endearing really. I rise up just a little, and kiss him on the cheek, his complexion turning a bright red,

"You know what? Maybe I am happy about something else. Like you said, we're going to spend an awful lot of time together."

We kiss again, longer this time, and I let him wrap his arms around me. He releases me from the kiss, but keeps me in his arms,

"So, does this mean you concede to me?"

I bury my head in his chest. If he wants to manipulate me into helping him join the mob, two can play at that game, "Yes, Oswald. How could I not?"

He raises his eyebrows, he's genuinely surprised, "What do you mean?"

I chuckle, smoothing my hands up to his shoulder blades. While I feel guilty about leading him on like this, he is blackmailing me and taking my place as Amanda's agent. And besides, this is what he wants, and despite everything I tell myself, this is what I want. It's just now I have a justifiable reason to do so,

"You have an alluring sense of style, you're charming, sensitive," I smirk, tapping his nose with my index finger, "and not to mention that fine Roman nose."

His expression lights up, his breathing increasing at a rapid pace. He runs ahead of me into the heavy rain and grabs a nearby street lamp, swinging around it in a full circle, "_Doddy, do do, doddy, do doddy doddy dooooo_," he starts, jumping off the street lamp, a toothy grin drawn ear-to-ear.

I laugh, he's not really going to-

"_I'm singin' in the rain, just singin' in the rain. What a glorious feeling, I'm happy again,_" he begins, tapping back toward me, arms outstretched. He twirls his umbrella around with one hand and wraps his arm his arm around my shoulder with the other, "_I'm laughing at clouds, so dark up above. The sun's in my heart and I'm ready for love,_" he pulls me forward, our arms linking, as we both do a jazz square. After we finish, we start skipping down the empty nighttime streets, "_let the stormy clouds chase, everyone from the place,_" he throws himself forward, "_c'mon with the rain, I've a smile on my face!_" he rejoins me and we slow down to a synchronized stroll, leaning back slightly as one leg goes forward before the other, "_I walk down the lane, with a happy refrain. Just singin', singin' in the rain,_"

He spots a rainwater drain, pouring water down at a steady pace. He holds his umbrella over the drain and spins it, letting the water splash everywhere. I grab ahold of him under the umbrella, avoiding the water from the drain, our clothes already soaked from the rain. He looks down at me and smiles, before taking my hand and waltzing with me, "_dancin' in the rain, duddie yea, dud duddie yea,_" he starts waltzing into the deserted road, our feet moving against the concrete. He spins me around before pulling me back into the safety of the umbrella, "_I'm happy again!_" we waltz some more, moving toward the other side of the street. We hit the sidewalk on the other side of the street, and he picks me up and lifts me onto the sidewalk, before stepping on himself, "_I'm singin', and dancin' in the rain,_". We link arms and skip through the street once more, until Oswald spots a large puddle on a street corner. He jumps into the puddle with both feet, bathing dirty street water all over the both of us. I giggle, before jumping in myself, dousing him with water. His eyes perk up, and with one foot, he kicks some water toward me. I respond, kicking water toward him. We paddle water at each other, laughing all the way until Oswald grabs me, lifting me and carrying me back to the sidewalk, putting me down but still remaining close, "_I'm dancin', and singin', in the rain._" we kiss one more time, as the rain miraculously stops all around us.

****Author's Note: musical numbers = my fluff****

**Song Oswald Sings: Singin' In the Rain from "Singin' In the Rain"**

****Guest: Thank you :)****

****HellsButterfly13: Phew, I was worried, thanks. I wanted to level the amount of sexual content with that of the show, hopefully I've accomplished that.****

****Guest: More action of what kind? Romantic action or physical action? Because both are on the way.****

****Cee: So I've heard, but my golden standard has always been a T rating, if I do write M rated content, I'd post it exclusively on AO3 like I did with The Doctor Is In.****

****Red: Oh, thank you so much. And yeah, I was a little worried about the character dynamic between those three (I'd written the original version of that chapter before the release of the show, and I had to base their interactions on the comics alone). The formatting error came from the copy/paste as that's a common error it does (I try to go through it before posting, but the errors are never consistent), but the rest is my fault. Once again, thank you so much for your help.****

****Thanks! :)****


	16. The Long Con

Chapter 16

Oswald and I run into the apartment building, the both of us laughing hysterically. He wraps up his umbrella as we ascend the stairs, water dripping from our clothes and shoes. I should be freezing from being soaked in rain water, but with his arm around me, I find comfort in the warmth from that alone.

"Oh, I wonder what Mother will say when I tell her-" there's a wild screaming coming from Oswald's apartment, and Oswald races to the door and pushes to open. However, the hinge on the door is stuck, and he can't open it all the way. I gently push him aside before backing up just a little and kicking the door open. His mother is on the floor, sobbing,

"Ozzy, my dear son, I'm sorry, but I couldn't stop them-"

"What's wrong Mother? What happened?" he asks, running to her side.

"Those evil men came again, they demanded more money, I, I didn't have any money and they took the tea set and the silverware and my wedding ring…" she suddenly notices Oswald's drenched clothes, "Oswald Chesterfield Kabelput, what happened to your clothes? Was it those bullies again?"

He shakes his head, "Oh no Mother, it's something good for once, I got a job."

"Oh, that's wonderful," she brushes some water off of his suit, "my little boy, all grown up," she turns around and sees me.

"You! You harlot, you've caused this! Those men wouldn't have come for more money if you hadn't given it to them!"

I frown, there's no use arguing with her. I cross my arms and start walking up the stairs to my apartment. Oswald holds out his hand in protest, "Trixie, wait…!"

I scurry up the stairs before I have to respond to him, my head bowed down in embarrassment. Yes, Mrs. Cobblepot's accusations are...hysterical at best, but it's probably best if I left the situation. I unlock the door to my room, and almost step on a small manila envelope on my way in. I bend down and pick it up, guess the building doesn't have any mailboxes. Upon closer examination, I smile, immediately recognizing the chicken scratch writing in a dark green ink. Good old Ed, always replying to letters right away.

"Ozzy, don't tell me you've fallen for that cheap floozy upstairs!" Mrs. Cobblepot's shaky voice comes through from below.

I roll my eyes, great, I can hear them.

"Mother, you don't understand! Don't you know what it's like to be in love-"

"Hasn't my love been enough?" she silences her son, "I've done all that these old bones can for you, dressed you, fed you...and this is how you repay me?"

I change into my nightwear of an oversized t-shirt and running shorts as I continue to listen in on their conversation.

"Mothe...Mom, there's something you need to understand. I don't love her." he confesses.

Well, this is...interesting.

Mrs. Cobblepot gasps, "Why, why of course son. But then, why do you keep her around?"

There's a devilish chuckle from Oswald. I squint my eyes together, I always liked his laugh.

"She's useful Mom, I _used _her to get a job at a nightclub. She's my key to the top."

I grit my teeth as I sit on the worn bed in my room. I glance to my bedside where my knives sit, the blue details swirling in the dull, yellow light. Instinctively, I grab one of them, twirling it in my hands, before forcefully sticking it into the wall, letting the blade dig into the old wood of the building.

"Oh, my dear, boy," she coos, "you're brilliant."

I feel like screaming, but I know that if I can hear their own idle conversation, then they could definitely hear me. I can't even cry, since they're bound to hear that as well.

Hang on, why I am so upset to begin with? I should be overjoyed, Oswald doesn't truly harbor feelings for me, it was all a ruse from the beginning. And now, knowing this, he's probably going to try to get rid of me. I'm of no use to him anymore, I've served my purpose. I smile, I need to dispose of him, before he disposes of me.

Their conversation wanders elsewhere, and eventually she and Oswald go to bed, Mrs. Cobblepot making sure to give her son an audible kiss goodnight before doing so. Meanwhile, I rip open Ed's letter, finally given a chance to read in peace,

_Dear Natalie,_

_I thoroughly enjoyed our meeting yesterday, and how thoughtful of you to write back right away (one thing you can always rely on in Gotham City, the postal service). I'm enjoying my new occupation at the GCPD, and I feel I will be of much use to the officers here. Of course, no one has noticed my genius yet, which is to be expected. One must have both patience and persistence in order to establish oneself. On another note, I've become acquainted with one Kristen Kringle, well, not so much "acquainted" as I saw her for only a few harrowing seconds. But Natalie, as soon as I laid retinals on her, I knew she and I would make an excellent pair (in the romantic sense of course, not like you and I, which I'd categorize as more platonic). I found her employment records in no time at all, and I'm trying to find a way to introduce myself. You're the courtship expert here, could you please offer some seminal advice?_

_Cheers,_

_Ed_

_P.S. (I have a new riddle, wanted to run it by you before adding it to my repertoire)_

_I have much to say_

_Yet I cannot speak_

_I am a window to the past_

_Yet I am also in the present_

_I have the greatest meanings hidden_

_Yet I can also mean nothing_

_I create and build things_

_Yet I also have the power to destroy _

I chuckle as I read the letter, ah, that Ed, he never fails to brighten my day. But I don't have time to answer his riddle right now, I need to find a way to eliminate Oswald. Of course I can't do it right away, no, that'd be too obvious. But then again, what if he tries to get rid of me first? I look up at my knife, still stuck in the wall. I pull it out, brushing off the chips of wood that came out with it. Well, if he strikes first, I'll be ready for him.

"So, he's essentially posing as you?" Amanda asks after I'd explained a slightly altered version of my situation to her, "And he has no idea he's doing this?"

It's the next day, and I'm standing out in a deserted Gotham street in one of my old dresses, a straight white one that goes down to my knees, with a decorative black belt at the hips.

I nod, although I realize this won't telegraph into the phone, "Yes, and I think he's now looking to snuff me out." I glance around. I'd chosen a different phone booth location, but you can never be too careful.

"Well, I'll have Raoul take care of him-"

"No!" I blurt out, but instantly regret, and also, Amanda's informant's first name is Raoul? "No, leave Morgan out of it. I'll take care of this on my own."

"Hmm...Natalie, you're not taking this personally, are you?"

"I never take anything personally." I mumble harshly.

Amanda pauses, "I don't find that true, at least, not anymore. You think that just because this job is off the books you can go and get yourself a boyfriend? The same rules that have always applied apply now. I don't want you getting killed out there."

"Fine," I grumble, "I'll take care of it, first chance I get."

"Good, for now, I'll keep Raoul in the dark. Might be for the best anyway, this pawn in play might just make for some good insurance. Waller out."

I hang up the phone and a cold air suddenly hangs behind me. I reach for one of my knives, he's right behind me, isn't he?

"Reporting to Ms. Waller?" the mid-toned voice asks with only a hint of malice.

I nod, unsheathing the dagger from the strap, "Mhm."

"What did you tell her?" he asks, footsteps of dress shoes clacking against the sidewalk as Oswald circles around me, dark shadows under his lower lids.

He faces me, blocking my path between me and the phone booth. He's unarmed thankfully, and he has that innocent, pleading expression plastered over his face, "Put the knife away, I'm not going to hurt you."

Does he know I overheard his conversation with Mrs. Cobblepot? Having lived in that building, he must be aware of the thin walls and floors separating us.

"Why should I?" I question, not letting go of my knife.

"I...I see I've upset you, with the claims I made to Mom, correct?" he asks, backing up, but then, a laugh escapes his lips, "I, I've upset you….haha…" he then seems to awaken from his anecdote, "well, the, the thing is, it's not true. I just needed to get her off of my back. I can't have her interfering with our plans, now can I?"

"Why do I have a hard time believing you?" I ask myself, fully revealing my knife, holding it in front of him.

Carefully, he approaches me, cupping his hands around mine, his expression blank and almost unreadable, "If you won't believe me, then believe this: that love is rich with both honey and venom," he leans in toward me, gripping the hand holding my knife, guiding me to lower it, "but, I think you'll see in time, there's more honey to be found in our relationship than the latter," allowing the knife to slip back up my dress and back into the sheath, Oswald patts the knife with his hand, before letting his fingers slide down my thigh, "and in the end, you'll find our relationship to be...mutually beneficial."

He wraps his arms around my waist, grinding his hips against mine. I contemplate forcing him off, but I'd rather stay close to him, however risky that may be as of now.

I push him away, only allowing for one hand to hold my own. I smile, for whatever reason, he still needs me,

"It's a lovely day. How about we go for a walk before work?"

He grins back, his expression not only showing anticipation, but also relief, "I'd love that."

****Author's Note: ****

****Guest: Thanks, although I'm not sure how much more "romantic action" I could add. Hopefully this chapter suits your needs.****

****Red: Oh, thank goodness, so characters are fine, it's grammar I really have to work on. Sounds about right, knowing my writing. I'm trying to compile a document right now of all the mistakes you've mentioned in your reviews so that I can keep track of them (for when I eventually/hopefully go back and fix these mistakes). Ah yes, my sentence structure, yeah, I tend to write run-ons, it's a bad habit of mine, especially when I'm writing action. In my mind, I interpret the action happening very quickly, so I try to squeeze it all into one sentence. Thanks for the insight, looking forward to hearing from you soon.****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: Maybe, but the question is: who's faking it and who isn't? And we get to see them for a little bit as neighbors in this chapter, more to come :)****

****Thanks! :)****


	17. What's In It For Me?

Chapter 17

We sit down on a park bench, Oswald holding a small bag of bird seed. I relax, leaning my head against his shoulder. I try to glance over and study his expression, but he tilts his head away from me, and because I can't examine his expression, I'm not sure if he's doing that on purpose or not.

"Can I ask you something?"

I nearly jump, we'd been in relative silence for a while now, the flow of conversation having been stopped sometime during our walk.

"Yeah, sure."

He tilts his head toward me, leaning back into the park bench, his right arm reaching over to my shoulders, "Why do you never talk about your parents?"

I pause, "I...I have my reasons. I mean, there isn't really much to say, I never knew them very well-"

"So they're dead?"

I freeze as Oswald casually sets down the bird seed on the park bench, scatters some of the bird seed on the ground, and watches as several pigeons come flocking to the seed, "The way you used the past tense to refer to them. They're either dead, or you consider them dead."

"They're dead." I mumble, staring straight ahead.

"What happened to them?" he asks, placing his hand on my shoulder, "It's okay, you can tell me."

I brush his shoulder off of me, "Why do you need to know?" yes, technically I should be bowing to his every whim to keep him happy, but this is...different. This is something you don't touch.

He leans in to whisper, "Because I want to," he brushes a lock of my hair away from my face, "and you will tell me."

"Amanda knows about you, you have nothing to threaten me with anymore." I retort, lowering my head.

"Oh, she might know," he counters, "but does she know about how I found out about you? How I stole your hotel key and snuck out just before daylight? How, with a bottle of alcohol and a match, I set your room ablaze with your things in tow?" he gently takes my chin and raises my head, "Oh, I wasn't expecting the fire to take so long, but, oh, how deliciously perfect it was when you ran for that burning building. Those poor children…"

Oswald wraps his arm around my back and pulls me toward him.

"You know what I like about you? You're just so, so nice," he taps my nose with one of his long fingers, "and you're so, so good as well. It's almost unbelievable really. But in the end, your kind nature is what gave you away. I'd already seen your identification in your suitcase, and I'd called the two numbers in your suitcase. But what tipped me off was when you rescued those two squirts from the burning building. You scaled that drain pipe with such...physical prowess, and I'll admit, I enjoyed the view while you did."

He pauses to scatter more bird seed, "And when you finally came out, you let those kids go, and in typical fashion, they simply, ran off. No 'thank you', or anything. And you seemed totally fine with that."

"Yeah, because I was practically dying from smoke inhalation." I argue.

He smiles confidently, chuckling, "Don't give me excuses."

Oswald buries his head into my forehead, "Your kindness will be your undoing. No one ever respects someone who is kind. They will always respect the one with power."

He pulls his head away, his hand still upholding my cheek, "Now, tell me about your parents."

Can I really open up to this man? ...why am I even asking that question, of course not. But, he certainly is insistent on an answer. He'd see through me if I lied to him, so my only option is to give as little information as possible,

"They both died in a fire. End of story."

"Oh? So, would you say you had other motives for going into that fire?"

I shrug, "Probably, on a psychological level, I can understand why you'd come to that conclusion."

"But it wasn't just your parents, was it?" he inquires further, like a counselor trying to get to the root of the problem.

"Yes, if you insist on knowing!" I snap, yanking away from him, "It was everyone, okay?! All of my family, my friends, I was born and raised in the Gotham Reservation until it burned to the ground. I lost everything! My entire life was there! And to top it off, the city had the gall to build apartments over it and call it 'Indian Hill'. I spent the rest of my adolescence in a condemned apartment building in Southside, but I wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of here. There, are you happy?!"

He grabs me with both arms, wrapping me tightly against his chest. I'm not sure why he does this, it's becoming harder and harder to determine his motives, "Yes, yes, I am very happy. I apologize I...I needed to hear that."

My expression lightens, but only slightly, "Why?"

He bends down and kisses me on the forehead, his lips digging into my skin almost possessively, his hands shaking violently, "I needed to know you're real."

We return to the apartment building after a meal together, which admittedly, was rather nice, with the exception of Oswald's frantic eating habits. He'd wolfed down his tuna sandwich with a fever not even seen in starving athletes, and it didn't help how he swished the food around his narrow jaw. We hold hands as Oswald checks the time with a small pocket watch discreetly kept in the pocket of his suit,

"We're to be expected at Mooney's in a few hours," he suddenly smiles devilishly, "that leaves just enough time for us to have some fun."

I smirk, but his words strike fear on the inside, "What kind of fun do you have in mind?"

He bumps his body against mine, "You'll see. Wait in your room, I'll be right up."

I comply, taking the extra flight up to my room, leaving the door open for him. I swallow hard, does he want to…? No, he's too timid, too shy. But he's shown that his polite, apprehensive nature is just a ruse, so, anything's possible with him.

There's a thumping noise by the door, and I turn around to see Oswald in the doorway, holding the thing that'd bumped into the door: a chessboard. I breathe a sigh of relief, his behavior had me worried, but then again, his behavior always worries me.

* * *

><p>Oswald Cobblepot watches intently as Trixie makes her first move. He examines her fingers as they grace the rounded end of the pawn. They're playing chess on the floor, as she's yet to acquire any kind of furniture yet. Perhaps he should surprise her and get her a housewarming gift, but no, that's not a possibility, what with how strapped for cash he is. This afternoon Trixie paid for their meal, as Oswald had no money whatsoever on him, how embarrassing. Finding work in a city filled with crime and poverty is near impossible outside of the criminal profession, especially when the city is controlled by pompous old men who're more interested in theatrics than actual progress. Oswald is a man of progress, he has his own idea of what this city should be, one that embraces its criminal element, and thrives on it.<p>

A couple of moves into the game, Trixie speaks, "Gosh, I haven't played chess in forever."

He can't help but give a crooked smile, taking her down should be a breeze. If only beating her at chess would be as easy as breaking her down in real life. He needs a way to make her see that her notions about justice are delusional. Although, he had to admit, the way she holds her high moral standards to herself while not expecting it from others is rather admirable.

"It's rather simple," he conjects, "the goal is to capture the opponent's king."

She smiles, "I know."

He grins back. True, while checkmate is achieved by capturing the opponent's king, at least in his opinion, the queen is the most important part of the set. The queen has the most mobility, allowing for underhanded moves an opponent might not expect. Oswald looks up at Natalie, in a way, she is very much his queen, his secret weapon. But at the same time, she could just as easily be his opponent's queen, an ally to turn against him. He should be ready to dispose of her at a moment's notice, after all, just like in chess, any pawn can become a queen. But even so, he's grown rather fond of this particular queen, and rightfully so, what better queen could he ask for? Skilled in combat and espionage, she always continues to pleasantly surprise him, but not this time,

"Checkmate." he declares, exposing her king.

She squints, but she soon realizes that checkmate is inevitable, "Damnit."

Oswald chuckles gleefully, taking almost too much pleasure in his victory. Climbing over the chessboard separating them, he kisses her on the lips, his knees knocking over some of the chess pieces on the board. Shifting himself over to the other side, he adjusts his legs to straddle around hers as he pulls her to the floor. He likes this new side of her, submissive and obedient, easier to control. But while she's complied to some of his more baser desires, there's still an inherent sense of independence within her that while admirable, will not serve him well in the long run. But if she could so easily give away her personal secret about the fate of her parents, prying more information out of her should be easy. He'll find something to keep her by his side, something more substantial than pure embarrassment. And as he lies on top of her, kissing her neck, and marveling at her finer qualities, he assures himself that this is completely possible. After all, checkmate is inevitable.

****Author's Note: Took the third person Oswald perspective for a test drive, gonna need to use it later :)****

****Emily: Thanks, I'll keep new chapters coming as long as you guys still like them.****

****Amy: "As romantic as these two can" is totally open to debate ;)****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: I would say they already have a lot of common ground (why do you think Natalie stays with him even if Amanda knows about them?), but yes, Oswald always has ulterior motives.****

****Guest: Thanks!****

****Red: Thank you again for the error corrections, my list is getting longer than I'd like to admit. It's flattering that you find my interpretations so close to the shows, as that's probably where I put in the most work (doing research into the characters' original origins as well as listening to actor/writer interviews, which, as an actor and sort of writer myself, I find invaluable when predicting a character's actions). I take more liberties with the canonical characters as the story starts to dive into interpersonal dialogue, especially with Oswald (also since everything before Chapter 8 was written before Episode 6 aired in the US, which had the scenes with him and his mom). Hope to see your review for the next chapter!****

****Thanks! :)****


	18. With His Bare Hands

Chapter 18

It's just another night at Mooney's. Today marks two weeks at Mooney's. I can tell Oswald is anticipating the paycheck he'll receive today, just from the way he whistled into work while his arm was wrapped around me.

"So...are you and Oswald…?" Ann awkwardly asks as we prepare for the next show in the dressing room.

"Yes, yes we are." I reply nonchalantly, applying powder to my nose. Whenever I'm performing onstage, I always wear skin makeup that makes my skin look lighter, lighter skin reflects off of lighting better, also, it just looks nicer.

She raises an eyebrow, "I'm sorry, but...why him?"

I look up from my mirror, "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is...ugh, the pale skin, long nose, creepy stare, not to mention he sounds like he's halfway through puberty-" she stops herself, "look, it's your decision, and you two seem pretty happy with each other but...I'm just saying I think you can do better."

I apply a dark red lipstick, "Thanks for the concern Ann, but I think I'm good with where I am right now. What about you?"

Ann pulls up her garter belt, "Oh me? I don't do men."

I nod understandably, just as Morgan enters the dressing room, "Ladies, you're on in five minutes!" he calls out, before running up to me specifically, "Trixie, can I talk to you for a second? Alone?"

"Of course Raoul." having picked up on the language of the club, I'd noticed that everyone seemed to refer to each other by their first name.

I follow Morgan into the narrow hallway just outside the dressing room. The hallway is empty, and the murmur from the crowd outside comes drafting in through the curtains separating the two areas.

"This is going to sound strange, but, how well do you know Oswald?" he asks, his voice quick and snappy.

I shrug, "No better than you."

"Because, I don't know, I get a weird vibe off of that guy. I know he's here to help but...you know what I mean? Guy just kind of rubs me the wrong way."

I'll admit, I know what he's talking about, Oswald still never fails to creep me out, or at least put me on edge every once in a while but, as I've gotten to know him, I feel he does at least some of it on purpose, as a sort of scare tactic.

"I see why you'd feel that way. Personally though, I think he's just...misunderstood." at least that's the best way I can put it.

The introduction music starts playing from the stage, and I run back into the dressing room to line up with the other girls. There's about six of us, all dressed in the same playful red, black, and white lingerie with long, chunky heels. We all enter the stage single file, with me at the end. I look out at the audience, Fish and Oswald are no where to be found tonight. Must be out on business.

The music starts up as one of the musicians turns on the player connected to the stage, and the lights are brightened as the six of us start dancing to a low, fast-paced song. We move our arms and legs, turning and kicking and making all kinds of suggestive movements. There's whistling from the audience, and as the three minute song comes to a close, I step to the front of the stage as a black table and a chair are set in the center of the stage. The music changes dramatically, becoming slower, and the musicians get up and play the intro,

"_What good is sitting alone in your room?_" I begin, walking around the table and chair, "_Come hear the music play. Life is a cabaret old chum, come to the cabaret._" I lean against the metal chair, bending my knees, "_Put down the knitting, the book, and the broom, it's time for a holiday._" I walk around the chair to the table, "_Life is a cabaret old chum, come to the cabaret._" I place my entire back against the table, lifting up my upstage leg to the air. Lowering my leg, I face the audience, "_Come taste the wine, come hear the band, come blow your horn start celebrating,_" I sit up, smile at the audience, and cross my legs, "_right this way your table's waiting_." I jump off of the table, "_What good's permitting some prophet of doom,_" I spin to the side of the table and lower myself under it, clutching the stand, "_to wipe every smile away?! Life is a cabaret, old chum, so come to the cabaret._" I get out from under the table as Ann sits down in the chair. I approach her,

"_I use to have this girlfriend known as Elsie,_" I cross around the table and lean against the back of the chair, placing my hand on Ann's shoulder, "_with whom I shared four sordid rooms in Chelsea. She wasn't what you'd call a blushing flower,_" taking Ann's hand, she rises from the chair. We take each other's arms and waltz to the other side of the stage, "_as a matter of fact, she rented by the hour_." I dip Ann, "_The day she died the neighbors came to snicker,_" I look up at the audience and see Fish and Oswald watching from the doorway. Oswald's expression is hostile as he glares at the two of us onstage. I move Ann in a half-circle, lifting her up on the other side, "_well that's what comes from too much pills and liquor._" I strut around her, placing my finger under her chin, "_But when I saw her later, like a queen,_" the moment I flick my finger off of her chin, Ann falls, and two other girls catch her from behind, "_she was the happiest corpse I'd ever seen._"

I walk back over to the table and chair, where I sit down on the chair, putting my feet up on the table, "_I think of Elsie to this very day. I remember how she turned to me and said:_" I twist my head to the audience, "_what good,_" I slam my legs down, "_is sitting, all alone in your room?_" I grab the arms of the chair as I rise from it, "_Come, hear the music play._" I twist my hips with the music, "_Life is a cabaret old chum, come to the cabaret!_" I kick the chair and the table away, the both of them skidding offstage and are caught by stagehands just offstage, "_And as for me, and as for me,_" I begin stepping back as the other five girls step forward, "_I made my mind up back in Chelsea. When I go...I'm going like Elsie._" I link arms with two girls next to me, "_Start by admitting come cradle to tomb,_" in a single line, we all start kicking our legs in sync, picking up pace with the music, "_it isn't that long a stay!_ _It's only a cabaret old chum,_" we get out of the kickline and three of the girls move off to the side while the other two get behind me, lifting me, "_and I love, a cabaret!_" I hold the final note as the girls move me back and the remaining three encircle us. I lift my arms at the final note, flashing a smile as the audience applauds.

The two girls lower me as we all bow, before walking offstage. We all head to the dressing room, where Fish is waiting for us,

"Bravo girls, lovely job as always," she claps, the six of us standing in a clumped group before her. She turns around to Oswald, "go, I want to talk to my girls alone."

He nods, "Yes, Ms. Mooney." before scurrying out the door.

She smiles, turning to us, "Ladies, I want you know that you're all my girls, and I'd never do anything to harm any of you."

We all nod and smile, but I can tell that this is leading up to something.

"One of my men has been stealing money from me, and I'm tasking all of you," she points her fake nail at every one of us, "to find the man responsible for this."

She paces around the dressing room, her three inch heels clacking against the wooden floor, "Tonight I know at least some of you will go home with one of my men, try to find out what they know," she spots a wig resting on a head bust and picks it up, "and report anything you find out to me," she sets the bust down, "understood?"

"Yes, Ms. Mooney." we all reply.

She holds out her arms, "That's my girls. Come to momma."

We all run into her arms, group hugging. While I smile, I'm uncomfortable being in such close contact with half naked women. When the group hug ends, we all go to our mirrors, as Fish strolls to the door, opening it,

"C'mon Oswald, let's go."

As the night comes to a close, I change out of my work clothes and change into a green shirt with a cropped jacket and a black miniskirt with low heels. Definitely more modest than the numbers I've been pulling off all night, but still sexy. I walk out of the dressing room door to find Oswald waiting outside. He smiles as soon as I walk through the door,

"I was beginning to worry you'd never come out."

True, I was the last girl out of the dressing room, and that might have been because I was snooping through the stuff on their mirrors, but that's besides the point,

"The girls in there never clean up after themselves, I figured I'd help them out." I excuse myself, as Oswald links his arm with mine.

He smirks as we lean our heads into each other's, "Fish is looking to usurp power from her boss, Carmine Falcone, she's been buying out his men little by little, but she's vulnerable right now. I say it's high time we strike."

I shake my head, "No, we need to get Fish with something big, something Earth shattering. Men move all the time with the sway of a dollar, it's no big deal."

He twists his lips, but nods in the end, "Also, I have something that might interest you," out of his pocket, he pulls out a black and white picture of a bald man holding a gun, "one of Don Falcone's men, a skilled hitman named Victor Zsasz. He'd make a sufficient candidate for your Suicide Squad, don't you think?"

I'd have to see this guy in action to really be sure, but as of right now, he's the only candidate I've got. I reach out for the picture, but Oswald swipes it out of reach,

"Ah, ah, ah, I think I deserve a little reward first."

I reach over, my right hand landing on his stomach, "You want a reward? I think I can give you a little something." fingers splayed, my hand glides down his belly, the palm of my hand smoothing his thin white button up shirt. Oswald's cheeks flush as I wrap my other hand around his shoulders, and my index finger grazes the rim of his pants for a single moment, when I kiss him, and snatch the photo from his grasp.

"Ha!" I laugh, holding the picture with two fingers.

"That's...that's not fair!" Oswald cries, his accusation like that of a child.

I fold the picture and tuck it into my pocket, "Hey, I did say I'd give you something. That is the lowest I've ever tried reaching."

He balls up his fists, and his shoulders are tense, "Fine." he grabs my wrist and leads me out of the hallway,

"Also, the way you looked at that girl during the performance today, you're not attracted to her, are you?"

I shrug, "What if I am?"

Oswald stops in his tracks, his grip on my wrist tightening. I sigh, "Oh, c'mon, don't tell me you look at Lazlo just out of jealousy, do you?"

He whips around, his breathing increasing rapidly, and his eyes shifting in every direction. I smile, patting him on the back, "Calm down, so we're even, though I understand why you're more tense about it than I am. Women from Gotham like other women, it comes with the territory, but men? Not a chance, and you're a target enough as it is," with the hand that's gripped by Oswald, I twist my hand up to pet his hand, my fingers playfully brushing his soft, smooth skin, "and besides, I prefer you." I reach up and kiss him on the cheek.

He moves his hand down so that it holds mine. He smiles, and a small sigh of relief escapes me, I've thankfully defused the situation.

We continue into the main restaurant area where Gilzean is waiting by the bar, "There you two are! I've got your paychecks."

He presents two blue slips of paper. Oswald instinctively reaches for his, but Gilzean holds it back, "Sorry Penguin, you haven't quite earned it yet."

"Don't call me that!" Oswald barks angrily, but he just laughs.

"Nope," he leans in toward us, stuffing our paychecks into his pocket, "you see, I know you two faked it on your initiation night, and that's just not fair for us folk who passed it fair and square, you know what I mean?"

He lunges out, grabbing my head with his large hand, slamming me into the nearest table, his elbow digging into my neck, practically choking me. My vision blurs and I receive an instant headache as my head collides with the table, and I'm not bent over on top of the table, my hips and legs facing them.

"Now, I'm willing to forgive this discrepancy if you two are willing to follow through on your promise," he explains, "Oswald, would you do the honors?"

"Wha...what do you want me to do?" he asks nervously.

Gilzean scoffs at his question, "Uhm, you could lift up her skirt for a start."

I can't see what's going on behind me, but I wait, and in a few seconds, Oswald's cold hands touch the bare skin of my thighs as he carefully, and slowly pushes up my skirt to my hips. I cringe, and try to lift myself up, only to be pushed down by Gilzean's hundred pound hand, "Sorry babe, can't be a tease this time."

"May I touch her?" Oswald asks him.

"Of course dude, go nuts."

I bite down on my lip as Oswald's hands return, starting on my upper thighs and working their way up. I grit my teeth as tears start rolling down my cheeks. Maybe we should've just done it in the bedroom, had I known this would be the consequence. Either way, when we're done I'm going to kill him, and Gilzean too. With every moment I get the creeping sense that the act is inevitable. I swallow my tears, well, so what if this is how I lose my virginity? It's not like I was saving it for anyone.

There's a shuffling of fabric behind me, and the heat of Oswald's body causes me to shiver.

"So, you want me to do her right here, on the table?"

Gilzean pushes me head into the wood of the table, "Yep."

Oswald chuckles maliciously while massaging my upper back, "How decadent."

He moves his legs closer to mine, our knees touching. My eyes widen as I sense an opportunity. With my right foot, I stomp on Oswald's foot, the heel of my shoe digging into his, and I give my foot a good twist.

"AH!" Oswald screams, stumbling back.

"Bitch!" Gilzean shouts, before slamming my head into the table once more, this time releasing me and letting me drop to the floor.

"What the hell is going on?!" it's Fish Mooney, her high heels pounding against the ground.

Facing the floor, I wait until I hear the movement of fabric and the clinking of a belt to look up. Fish is standing on her own, and despite being much shorter than the two men, she still intimidates the both of them, "Gilzean, you know better than this," she turns to Oswald, "and leading Oswald to this too…"

"Ms. Mooney, I apologize, it was an honest mistake...I...I got excited."

"I bet you did." she snarls, but her expression lightens as she approaches him.

She pets his head, "You just need a bit of guidance, don't you?"

"Yes, yes, exactly." he nods profusely.

She stops petting him, letting her flexed hand hang in the air. Finally, she looks at me as I get up and straighten my skirt, "Trixie...I want to speak with you tomorrow night, privately," she turns away and starts walking toward the door, but just as she's about to leave, she tilts her head, "y'all take care now."

Gilzean takes out our paychecks from his pocket, handing them to us, "You heard her, get out of here." he mumbles.

As soon as we're outside Oswald grabs my shoulders, "Trixie, I'm so sorr-"

I push his hands off of me and slap him across the face, sending him spiraling to the ground, "Don't you dare touch me, or talk to me."

"Does this mean you won't help me..?" he asks meekly, lifting himself up.

I sigh, as much as I hate him, he could rat me and Morgan out to Fish, and that would jeopardize my entire mission, "I'll help you, but anything between us, is over."

**Author's Note: A long chapter, and yes, I realize the content contained is really pushing the envelope. Once again, I'll leave the judgement to you guys, the reviewers, and if the scene in question is deemed too visceral, I'll remove/modify it.**

**Songs at the club:**

**Song Natalie/Trixie, Ann, and other girls dance to: "Let's Dance Boys" from "Bayonetta" **

**Song Natalie/Trixie sings: "Cabaret" from "Cabaret"**

**Emily: Thank you :)**

**Amy: Might not be anymore romancy scenes for a while, but if/when they start again, I promise it'll be worth the wait.**

**Shadow Cat Mistress: Thanks, it's hard to imagine what Oswald flirting would be like since in the show, his sexual advancements are very minimalistic.**

**HellsButterfly13: Thanks, and there will be more, especially once we get into the events of the show.**

**Thanks! :)**


	19. Heroes and Villains

Chapter 19

I wake up in my apartment wanting nothing more than to get out, get away. I look to my right and see my clothes from last night, as well as Ed's letter, sitting atop a newly bought arm chair next to my bed. I get up, and fill up the the large tub in the bathroom. Stripping out of my night clothes, I dive into the full tub, letting myself sink into the water. If anything, I need to clean myself, I don't feel clean. I shudder as the memory of Oswald's hands on me creep into my mind. In those moments, his touch no longer felt warm or strangely comforting. It was controlling, hoggish. I could imagine his green-eyed expression leering at me as he lifted my skirt and held me in a most unnatural way.

There's no one I could go to talk about this, is there? Amanda would be entirely unsympathetic, and I don't know Ann or Morgan well enough to feel comfortable going to them. I could reply to Ed's letter...Ed! I certainly couldn't tell him, at least not for now, but he's someone, right? I get out of the tub and drain the water just as there's a knock at the door. My heart jumps...is that who I think it is?

"Trixie, I know you're in there...open up please."

I pull on my clothes but not so much as look toward the door. There's no way I'm letting him in, much less letting him plead his case. I tread into my room and look out at the closed window leading out to the fire escape. Thank god for minimal safety standards.

The front door rattles and shakes, "I know how to jimi these doors, I can get in one way or another."

"That really isn't helping your case." I call out from my room, as I run to the window and begin to push it open.

The metal of the window creaks against the rust on its surface, creating a distinct, and loud noise.

"The fire escape? Oh, we're going to play that kind of game, huh?" his voice echoes through the thin walls, "Alright, you take one step onto that rickety old thing, I'll come chase you," he chuckles, his mid-toned voice dipping lower than usual, "it's a little like cat and mouse, isn't it?"

Putting my shoes on, I lift myself up onto the windowsill, place a single foot on the fire escape, and stomp that foot repeatedly onto the fire escape, pounding my foot so hard it shakes a little. Oswald's scrambling feet rush down the stairs, and as soon as his footsteps begin to fade, I jump off of the windowsill and shut the window, running for the front door. I fling it open, but shut it carefully as to not make any noise. I skid down the stairs and on the next flight, the door marked with the number nine is wide open, and Oswald is running into his mother's room to use to fire escape. Mrs. Cobblepot is in the living room,

"Oswald my dear, the slut's not worth it!" she cries.

She turns to the door and sees me standing by the stairs. Our eyes make contact for a brief moment. Oswald looks up and down the fire escape, finding nothing. Mrs. Cobblepot, while definitely seeing me, says nothing, and I'm allowed to escape down the stairs.

I reach the street and make a mad dash out into the early morning streets of Gotham. Funny thing, when the streets are safer than within your own home.

"Words." I answer, as Ed and I walk along Finger street to Ed's favorite cafe.

"Is that your answer to my latest riddle?" he responds, smiling knowingly.

I nod, and his smile broadens, showcasing his perfectly straight teeth, "You are...correct. Although I have to admit, that one was rather simplistic, I've been on a time crunch as of late."

"Oh? Why so, Mr. GCPD?"

He hunches over, as if to tell me a secret, "I've been given an award."

I look up in astonishment, "About time they give you something Ed, congrats!"

He whips out a cream envelope with a wax stamp from his jacket pocket, presenting it in front of me, his other arm behind his back, "The Whippleburn Prize, an annual prize honoring Augustus P. Whippleburn," opens the envelope and unfolds the letter inside, "and the judges chose _my_paper to receive his high honor, and they're even holding a continental breakfast in my honor, can you imagine?"

"Well, I know you can't get enough of your muffins." I smile.

He folds the letter back into the envelope, carefully resealing it as if it were being sent, "I have a proposal for you: I'd like you to attend this breakfast with me."

I raise an eyebrow, "Me? Why not invite that girl you mentioned in your letter?"

Ed stops in his tracks, pressing his hand against his chest, "Kr-Kristen?" he shakes his head, "Why heaven's no Natalie, we've hardly spoken…"

I lean against a nearby street pole, "So? It'd be a great first date."

"A d-d-d-ate!?" he stutters.

I roll my head from one side to the other, "Well, not officially a date, it's more the gesture itself that makes it a date more than anything. It'll just be an opportunity for you two to get to know each other better, and it'll be a way for her to see you in a positive light."

"Well...alright, I'll test your hypothesis. But if you're wrong, you owe me restitution." Ed wagers.

"What do you mean by 'restitution'?"

He winks, and I know exactly what he means. I sigh,

"Fine...we'll go to the Tech Museum."

"Yes!" Ed throws a lanky fist into the air.

We pass by the window of a brand new Italian restaurant with the words: "Bamonte's Restaurant" in red cursive.

"I don't remember this place being here. Is it new?" I ask him, peering through the window of the dark and empty restaurant.

Ed nods, "It just opened recently, I presume Italian cuisine is back in vogue."

"Was it ever out?" I inquire.

I notice at the bottom of the restaurant name a subheading: "A Sal Maroni Establishment". I scrunch my brows in suspicion. The only people who'd proudly display their names like that are the Waynes or a crime boss. And I'd assume this guy is the latter.

As we pick up a box of pastries from the bakery, Ed's cell phone goes off. He takes a look at it,

"Ah, that's my alarm, I'm due at work soon."

I glance at the oldened, decayed clock on the bakery wall, "Hang on...you don't start work for at least a couple more hours."

"Oh, I always arrive at work at least an hour early. Helps me get organized and prepared for the day," he explains cheerfully, but then he realizes something, "wait...how do you know when I start work? I haven't disclosed that information to you yet."

Out of the pastry box, I pull out a cranberry muffin and hand it to Ed, "Remember? I use to want to be a police officer back in high school. You know, before reality struck me."

"Ah," he realizes, tilting his head up and pointing up an index finger, "but it could be a reality, they dropped the minimum height requirements quite a while ago. Trust me, the precincts are desperate for officers. You could be-"

"Thanks Ed, but that was a dream I dumped a long time ago." I admit. After spending five years in the CIA, I don't think being a cop would bring the same level of...challenge.

"Well, I must be off, it's always a pleasure conversing with you Natalie-" before he can leave I push the box of uneaten pastries towards him.

I smile, "Take them, I know how you love cranberry."

He grins, his wide, outstretched smile creasing his sharp jaw. He takes the box and...and pulls me into a hug.

"Ed...how very uncharacteristic of you." I mumble in astonishment.

He pats me on the shoulder, "Something about you this morning...you're not well, are you Natalie? I felt I needed to do something to get your endorphins going."

I laugh, before briefly hugging him again, "Dawe, thanks Ed. You do have a heart."

"Of course I have a heart!" he gasps jokingly, "How else could my blood circulate?"

****Author's Note: Sorry if this chapter was a little...talky. I just needed to write something lighter after that last one.****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: In my personal opinion, he would've totally gone through with it, while he doesn't like Gilzean, he still sees him as an authority figure right now. And also, Oswald (at least my interpretation, it's hard to say with the show's) has a lot of unresolved sexual frustration pent up inside him, most of it coming from long before Natalie/Trixie came into the picture.****

****Kitten: Lol, although I personally wouldn't want them to (because then I'd have to write it), if you want them to there's plenty of mature OswaldxOC fanfiction out there that's much more well done than whatever I'd come up with. Personally I'd recommend regular reviewer Fuchsia Grasshopper's "The Devil's Walk", although full disclosure, I haven't read a lot of it since I know my parents would disapprove ;)****

****Sketch1997: Thanks, and yes, Ozzy is in trouble!****

****HellsButterfly13: Thank goodness, I know for example in film, any depiction of sexual assault gets an automatic NC-17, and the subject can be touchy. I never meant to depict the scene in a "sexy" manner, although knowing the internet, to quote Yahtzee Croshaw, "I'm not getting off to it but I know someone out there is", and that's fine by me****

****Guest: Thank you, you're awesome for reading! :)****

****Thanks! :)****


	20. Forgive Me For the Intrusion

Chapter 20

I sneak back into my apartment through the fire escape. The sun is low in the sky, and I need to get ready for work. One leg in after the other, I clear the wall space separating the window and the floor of the apartment. After cleaning up my clothes from last night, I cross into the living room. In the past two weeks I'd furnished the apartment to my liking. I have a white rectangular dining table with matching chairs. I cleaned up the counter and stove that came with the apartment, and they're both now in semi-working order. I've hung up an old picture of me and Ed from our high school graduation. Even then, he was so much taller than me, and I'd noticed during our breakfast that's he's grown even more, and lost weight. I probably look like his pudgy little sister in comparison. I treated myself and bought a small, brand new white studio piano, along with an old radio. Finally, I found a nice, if somewhat used, black leather couch, and yes I went over it with a black light before buying it. But upon that couch, his right arm splayed over the top of the couch, is Oswald, clutching a slightly withered bouquet of flowers,

"You're home early;" he gets up and paces toward me, holding the flowers behind his back as if I hadn't already seen them. He gets close enough and whips them out, "for you."

"Yeah, no," I back away from him, "if you think I can be won over with a handful of dead plants-"

"Oh, no no no!" he stops me pleadingly, "I'm...I'm not asking for your forgiveness. This is merely a...a gesture, of, of...friendship! And good faith!"

I look him over. He's clearly used some of his paycheck to buy himself a nicer suit, although his sense of style is strange to say the least. A dark suit with the lapels flared out, the tie crossed in front and pressed with a blood red bead. And now, seeing him in something that actually fits him, I realize...wow he's thin.

"If you really want to show a gesture of good faith you'll tell me how you got in here." I respond, crossing my arms.

"I told you, I can jimi the doors," he leans in, smiling knowingly, "and as you've just demonstrated, those windows by the fire escape open easily."

"I should install an alarm." I realize, striding over to the door, but as soon as I grab the handle Oswald throws out his arm.

"Wait, wait! I...I want to patch things up, between you and I."

My hand still firmly gripping the knob, I turn my head to him, "What is there to patch up? You were blackmailing me into being your girlfriend."

"Not my girlfriend, only as a confident, _that_was your choice," he points out, but his accusing finger soon lowers itself, "I apologize, truly, what I did was wrong, and I should be punished-"

I twist the knob and open the door, but Oswald rushes me, grabbing my wrist with one hand and slamming the door shut with the other.

"But...please, don't make my punishment...banishment from your life," his voice becomes low and throaty with each phrase, as he sways his head from side to side. His hand moves from my wrist, up my arm, and rests on my shoulder, "I could be a valuable asset to you. I already gave you your first candidate," he starts pacing circles around me, still keeping a single hand on my shoulder, "we know that Fish is looking to take out Falcone, and she's using that cronie Nikolai as a vehicle to take his place."

He picks a red carnation from the bouquet, setting the rest of the flowers down on the table, he snaps the stem off of the flower and places the flower in my hair, "That looks wonderful on you."

I can't help but smile. Not because no one has ever given me flowers before, well, technically Ed did, but only to pick them apart and identify what they symbolize. What a way to ask me to Prom. While I'm sure a girl like that girl Kristen he mentioned would've found that romantic, I just...didn't. That's why I don't think I could ever date a guy like Ed, too technical.

I try to remember the meanings of the flowers Ed told me. Unlike him, I don't have a photographic memory. I walk over to the bouquet and try to pick out a singular flower I can remember. Red roses? No, that would definitely send the wrong message. Lilies, chrysanthemums, lilacs, no, these all have happy meanings. Toward the bottom, I find what appears to be a white rose. White rose...that represents innocence, right? Well, it's all I have to work with.

Why am I so focused on sending him the right message anyway? If the plan is still going according to how he told it to me, then I should soon have an opportunity to bump him off, get him out of the picture. But hey, if I'm going to be killing this guy soon, might as well make his last days honest.

I bring the flower up to Oswald, presenting it to him. I smile triumphantly,

"For you."

He grabs the flower, clutching my hand as well. He leans in, his elongated nose peering over the petals of the flower, "Hmm...gardenia, interesting choice."

Gardenia? Guess it's not a white rose after all, but unfortunately I also have no idea what gardenia represents. A crooked grin grows on his face, as he takes the flower and holds it sideways in his mouth, quietly chuckling to himself. Either he doesn't understand the meaning of flowers either, or I _really _picked the wrong one.

"Lets put these in some water, shall we?" he proposes, taking the flower out of his mouth and placing it with the others.

* * *

><p>Oswald Cobblepot chuckles uncontrollably as he exits Trixie's apartment. Gardenia, huh? He was right to add a single gardenia among the flowers, after all, gardenia represents secret love, hidden affection. He even saved one of the petals from the flower, which he now rubs in his hand. The petal is soft...like her skin, almost. He'd been good today, patient, conservative, just like Fish had taught him, perhaps he should've started following her example sooner. While he'd barely touched her, and she responded well to that, well...it just wasn't enough. Oswald still felt unsatisfied, hungry for more. He hated this waiting game he was being forced to play, what's the point of being patient while in the meantime he yearns for the feeling of her fiery flesh?<p>

He mind snaps to last night, how he'd held her, how close to victory he'd been. It had been both a moment of strength and weakness for him, to have a taste of that thing which he desired only to have it swept away. And what he desires is not simple sex, although that is part of it, what matters is what it will represent.

Oswald unlocks the door is his apartment, but when he opens the door it gets stuck on the uneven floor of the apartment. With a few more pushes, he's able to let himself in, only to find his mother, sobbing on the couch. He rolls his eyes, "What now, Mom?"

"You...choose to return to that...whore?" she sobs into her lacey floral dress, her fingernails harboring the same dirt and grime as his.

Oswald approaches her, getting down on one knee, "You know why I have to stay with her," he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the remainder of his paycheck, "look Mom, we can pay our bills. I'll track down our belongings and buy them back, once I get enough. So you see? Why I must keep her?"

She places her hands on his cheeks, squeezing them affectionately, "I just can't bare to see my son subjected to that...horrid woman."

He smiles, stuffing the money back in his pockets, "Don't worry Mom, it'll be alright. Just trust me."

Mrs. Cobblepot's eyes grow with concern, "Why...why do you no longer call me 'Mother', Ozzy?"

Oswald broadens his smile, "'Mother' seems so formal, don't you think? 'Mom' is much more endearing."

"That woman has changed you, hasn't she?!" she realizes, getting up from her seat, "She's twisted your mind, she's making you turn against your own mother!" she runs to him, hugging him close before whispering in his ear, "You must never let her in. Never let her trifle with your affections."

"Mom, I know, I'll be careful." he raises his voice in impatience.

"No, you do understand. You are being careless," she grasps his shoulders and looks him in the eyes, "this woman will be the death of you. My little boy, you have not seen the world...as I have. You do not yet know its cruelties-"

"You think I don't know?! I am no little boy anymore!" Oswald declares, ripping himself from his mother, "You think you can shield me from the world forever? No, no, that's not it...you're afraid, aren't you Mother? Scared that I'll become independent of you, no longer need you. And then...what will you have?"

Tears begin building up in her eyes. She backs off, away from him, "Oswald...how could you...to your own mother?"

Oswald's expression remains stern as he marches to the front door, "Frailty, thy name is woman!" he declares, before yanking open the door and slamming it shut behind him.

* * *

><p>Oswald paces around the darkening streets just outside the apartment building, waiting for Trixie. Perhaps she'd let him stay in her apartment for a while. That would be nice, and perhaps they could sleep in the same bed once more...but no, she wouldn't let him, not this early. He needs to warm himself up to her again, prove himself to her. But, why does he need to prove himself to her, exactly? Why couldn't she welcome him back with open arms, like in the plays or the pictures? Maybe it's because something's wrong with him, does he not please her? Oswald ponders this, and realizes that, yes, that is exactly why. Why would she want him at all? A lowly grunt at the beck and call to her own superior, what's to desire? She, like all people, desires power, and the only way to appease her will be to have that power.<p>

Oswald walks by a newspaper stand, when the man at the stand flashes him a copy of the evening edition, "Extra, extra! Read all about it, Wayne couple killed in double homicide!"

Oswald raises his eyebrows, and after buying a copy, opens up the paper to the headline story. There's several spelling errors within the paper, as if the editor rushed this story out at the last minute, but the information is all there, the Waynes are dead. Delight leads to a sinister smile as Oswald tears up the paper and dumps it in a nearby garbage can. So it's done, now is the time to strike.

****Author's Note: Yeah...so just before I posted this chapter, I read The Cowgirl Bookworm's "A Continued Association" and they did the flowers thing too...and now I feel like I've committed plagiarism. I'm sorry. ****

****Also, I missed this week's episode of Gotham, but I've been hearing the buzz about it at school. Hopefully I'll be able to watch it soon****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: Yeah, I don't wanna make Mrs. Cobblepot completely unlikeable, just sort of complex, like Oswald. Speaking of Oswald, I feel he's the hardest to write out of all the characters. There's a tendency, at least for me, to either go too dramatic or too giddy, happy, and quirky. And yes, I love Ed, and you should totally do a one-shot with him and Kristen, because I would totally read it****

****HellsButterfly13: Thanks, although, I am considering taking a break since I have my own exams next month, also the winter show season is starting, and auditions for the spring musical are coming up as well. Also, Christmas...maybe, if I have time. And no, I never meant to suggest you personally had an interest in sexual assault, I was just acknowledging that this is the internet and there are people here who find that alluring. The ruling that all depictions of sexual assault would get an NC-17 rating is fairly new, introduced (in America at least) in 2010. And yeah, I should be using those chapter breaks, I'll try to in the future. I put them in when I'm writing the chapter in Google Docs, but once I copy/paste it to FF's text editor, they disappear****

****Lola93091: Lol, not quite so much catching her as lying in wait, but hopefully the encounter still played out to your satisfaction. Yeah, I knew I couldn't have more than one chapter without Oswald since this last chapter wasn't received very well across the board****

****Thanks! :)****


	21. The Good, the Evil, the Beginning

Chapter 21

I change out of my work clothes for the day, having just finished up work. The other girls are all doing the same, exchanging their glitter and sequins for tight shirts and fishnets. Not much of a transition, in my opinion. I sense their judgemental stares as I put on a simple lavender dress with puffed sleeves. I smile as I slip into brown flats, if they don't like the Baby Doll look, then tough.

There's a sudden commotion from outside, the girls and I rush to the door to see what's the fuss. Gilzean and another one of Fish's men are walking down the hall, with someone else in tow,

"C'mon Raoul, this'll be over before you know it." Gilzean assures him sarcastically, dragging him along the ground.

"So he's the one stealing money from Fish." one of the girls realizes.

The girls glance around among themselves, trying to figure out which one of us snitched on him but no one gives themselves away.

We all scurry to the window facing the rainy alley out back. There, Gilzean gets out a metal baseball bat from behind a garbage can. Holding it with both hands, he takes a practice swing in the air,

"So Raoul, buddy ol' pal...where's Fish's money?"

"I don't have it!" Raoul declares, "There's been a mistake!"

Gilzean presses the end of the bat against Morgan's forehead, "Oh really?" winding up, he smacks Raoul's stomach with the bat, causing him to fall to the ground, "Then what were you doing in Fish's office the other night?"

"N-nothing, I swear."

He cracks him with the bat again, sending a shout of pain from Morgan. Gilzean hands the bat to the other man, who hits him two more times, both on the head. Blood begins dispelling from his head, and he starts sobbing quietly. Just then, Fish appears with Oswald, holding an umbrella for her. She slowly approaches the broken Morgan, her expression stern, and disappointed,

"I still care for you deeply, but I don't believe you still care for me anymore."

"I c...c-care about you!" he pleads.

"Then where's my money?"

"I'll get it, I'll get it, I'll get it."

I shake my head, while yes, getting hit with a metal baseball bat hurts like hell, just a few swings shouldn't have made him snap so quickly. What kind of people has Amanda been hiring?

My attention turns slightly as I notice Oswald's expression. He seems entranced by the action taking place, so much so that his umbrella is no longer covering Fish,

"Boy!" she snaps.

"Sorry." he apologizes meekly.

She points a stern finger at him, "If you let this hair go frizzy, you will be."

So this is how she's been treating Oswald. I admit, I haven't been able to see much of them interacting, since they're usually out on business while I'm performing onstage.

Lazlo comes around to the alley, "Ma'am, Detective Bullock is here."

She glares at Morgan, "Keep him warm."

Gilzean nods, "Yes, ma'am."

She gives Lazlo her coat before stepping back into the club. A detective? So the police are questioning her, probably about the Wayne murders no doubt, since it happened not too far from here.

"Hey, Oswald? You want a turn?" Gilzean asks, offering the bat to him.

"...may I?"

"Knock yourself out, kid."

Oswald takes the bat from him, "Thank you, ."

He starts by tentatively shoving the bat at Morgan, who is already in terrible pain, moans in protest. Oswald chuckles at this, before lightly swinging at Morgan. He grunts as the bat hits him, and Oswald laughs in a low, malicious tone. Morgan looks up at Oswald, silently pleading for him not to continue. Gilzean is about to step in to take the bat when Oswald smacks Morgan again, harder this time. Now having lost his reservations, he doesn't hesitate to hit him again, attacking him repeatedly, his blows escalating in force until he's wildly beating him uncontrollably, a wide smile plastered across his face.

"Oswald, whoa." Gilzean finally stops him.

"Yeah, take it easy, Penguin." the other man joins in.

"You know I don't like to be called that." he reminds, his voice harsh but still intimidated.

"Ooh, scary." the other man mocks.

The girls begin backing away from the window as one of the detectives comes in to talk to them. Ana bumps my arm and I lean in as she whispers,

"I thought that guy was creepy to begin with, but this is serious. You better reconsider your relationship with him, that's a domestic abuse case waiting to happen."

It's hard to not agree. I've never seen Oswald this violent, who knew he was capable of this, but now looking back on it, the signs were always there from the start, was I just too blind to see them?

* * *

><p>Tonight, the night is quiet, except for the whistling of a chilly autumn wind that breaks through the many cracks and crevices in the walls. Having just returned home from work, I sit alone in the living room, listening to the radio, where two broadcasters are discussing the circumstances of the Wayne murders,<p>

"I think that this murder was just a case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. The Theatre District is a dangerous place at night, and the Waynes are easily recognizable faces." one of the broadcasters reason.

"I don't know John, while the police have yet to release any information, what are the chances that someone would just 'accidentally' kill the Waynes?"

The first broadcaster laughs, "Ah, c'mon man, you're being paranoid, who'd want to kill the Waynes? Look how much they've done for Gotham, not to mention the killer left their son, Bruce Wayne alive. If this was a real hit, why leave alive the singular heir to the Wayne fortune?"

I sigh, turning off the radio. I could think of a lot of reasons why a hitman and his employers would want to keep the kid alive. They could use him as a puppet so they could control Wayne Enterprises from behind the shadows. Poor kid, I wasn't that much younger when I lost my parents…

I open up my apartment door to get some fresh air, but just as I walk into the hallway I spot the manager smoking what appears to be an illicit substance. The air is thick and dense from the scent, it's clearly the cheap stuff. I retreat back into my apartment, slamming the door behind me to make sure the scent doesn't get into the room.

I'm about to slump onto the couch in defeat when I hear the window in my room creak. I look over through the open doorway to my room. I could get some fresh air on the fire escape, perfect! I rush over to the window and open it up. The minute I do, the nighttime breeze whips my hair, and I feel the rush of the wind from the air pressure changing as I step outside.

Looking out into the Gotham skyline, I lean against the fire escape as the familiar noises of the city echo in the distance. I close my eyes, letting the wind blow against my face, enjoying a rare moment of peace and quiet. Perhaps though, this is only the quiet before the storm…

"I had a feeling you'd be here." I jolt my head to the side and see Oswald ascending the steps from the previous floor, his shiny, pointy black dress shoes barely making a sound.

I smile, while of course I still haven't forgiven him for what he did, I only have to deal with him for a few more days, the least I can do is put some effort into it.

"I've made arrangements to meet with two officers from Major Crimes tomorrow morning. If they don't go after Fish, at the very least I'll have earned their trust." he informs me, leaning against the fire escape, folding his hands together.

"Major Crimes? I know they're the Waynes, but shouldn't that be Homicide's job?" I reason.

Oswald shakes his head, "Yes, but Major Crimes is looking to take it off of Homicide's hands, and my information should be just what they need to get that competitive edge."

"I see." I admit aloud.

The stars are strangely bright tonight. A clear sky illuminates the dark city that seems to stretch into infinity. Oswald slowly scoots closer to me until he bumps my shoulder,

"Oh...sorry." he apologizes, shirking back.

I smile weakly, "It's fine."

A gust of wind blows through as we stand by each other in relative silence.

"I...I didn't mean to hurt you." he confesses, gripping the railing with his veiny knuckles.

"...I know." although honestly, I don't.

He looks up at the quiet night sky, his expressive light green eyes gazing towards the stars, "When...when someone comes along, and shows you a whole new world of possibilities, one of kindness and compassion, friendship...it just...it consumes you." he reaches his hand across the space between us and presses it on top of mine,

"Would you please, allow me this one indulgence?"

I twist my lips, now I feel bad for wanting to kill this man. I know I shouldn't, not after what happened but, I truly understand what he's talking about. It's rare anyone ever extends a willing hand of friendship, unconditional and honest.

From under his hand, my own hand reaches up and intertwines with his, "Yes." I whisper softly.

He holds my chin with his other hand, before gently pulling me toward him. Our lips connect, and we kiss. My hands move to his shoulders, wrapping my arms around him. He slowly pulls his arms around my waist, and I allow myself to enjoy every moment, for it may be the last I ever have.

The kiss ends, and we lean our heads in, foreheads against one another's, our noses touching.

"I love you." Oswald murmurs, his words almost inaudible.

"I love you too." I reply instinctively, not even thinking about it.

No, no, no, I don't love him. What I'm feeling...is just infatuation. Besides, as I saw earlier tonight, Oswald is a dangerous man, the last thing I want to do is have feelings toward him. What is it about him that I find so attractive anyhow? Perhaps it was because he's so dangerous, danger has always been a close companion of mine. Or...maybe like him, I'm so starved for companionship that it would lead me to make these rash, irresponsible decisions. Of which is true, I do not know.

"Oswald Kabelput! Where are you, my boy?!" Mrs. Cobblepot's raspy voice calls out.

He looks down at the apartment below, before looking up to face me, "Goodnight...goodnight," he kisses me on the forehead, "sleep well, and when you dream, dream of me."

He rushes down the fire escape and ducks back into his apartment. I smile, stepping into my apartment, and closing the window, "Tonight…"

****Author's Note: ****

****The Cowgirl Bookworm: Thank you very much. I agree Oswald and his mother have a traditional European motif going on, and not to mention Oswald's origin in the Arkham games is that his family was rich until their company was bankrupted by the Waynes****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: Yeah, hopefully now that we're into the events of the pilot his personality matches up with that of the show's. And oh...Christmas story :D I was thinking of making a Christmas chapter for this story once I catch up to the episode, but by the time it'll probably be way past Christmas****

****Thanks! :)****


	22. The Forgotten

Chapter 22

So, I ended going with Ed to his continental breakfast. He'd told me he'd asked Kristen, but she apparently couldn't attend because she had to organize some papers in the archives she runs at the precinct. I roll my eyes, even I could think of a more legitimate excuse than that, but he retold it to me as if it were perfectly genuine.

"So Natalie," he begins as we approach the Gotham City Suites Kane Lounge, "how goes the escapades with your mysterious suitor?"

"C'mon Ed, do we really have to talk about this now? It's your day, enjoy it." I encourage him.

"Yes, it is my day, therefore, you will answer my question with adequate detail and supporting facts."

I sigh, "Fine," we walk into the lounge to be greeted with a mostly empty room. The breakfast, as well as tables, chairs, and a display presenting the Whippleburn Prize and Edward Nygma as its winner have all been set up. There are two other people in attendance, one of them a woman standing by the front of the stage, and the other a woman sitting by herself at one of the tables.

"Ah yes, Edward Nygma I presume, the man of the hour! I'm Dr. Leslie Thompkins, proprietor of the Whippleburn Prize, " the woman by the stage welcomes, approaching Ed and firmly shaking his hand, "and this is your girlfriend?"

"Just friend." I clarify, slightly embarrassed, although a lot of people have made that assumption before.

She shakes my hand, "Well, you two help yourselves to the food. Edward, I believe your boss is here to congratulate you as well."

Ed swivels around and sees the other woman, who is now standing in front of him, "Yes I am, congrats Ed."

"T-thank you, Captain Essen. It's an honor indeed."

"You two help yourselves to the food, and enjoy yourselves." Dr. Thompkins smiles, before leaving us.

"Would you like to sit with me once you've gotten something to eat?" Captain Essen asks.

Ed nods, "Of course we would."

He and I walk over to the two tables set up and get our plates. I peer over at Ed,

"You alright? You look kind of...frazzled."

He remains silent, his eyes shifting in various directions, "I'm...rather upset right now. This is a high honor to be bestowed upon me and yet only a single person shows up," his gaze drifts over his boss, "and she's probably only here on social obligation."

He piles up his plate with an assortment of muffins, "Now, tell me about your lover. It'll brighten my spirits to take my mind off of this chagrin."

I frown, placing my hand on his shoulder, "First of all Ed, I want you to know that I'm so, so proud of you…"

He straightens his posture, and resumes his usual enthusiastic smile. He covers my hand with his, his eyelids becoming droopy, "I know Natalie, but you're avoiding the question again."

I smirk, "Alright. Well, first off, he's definitely not my lover. And...and things have become complicated."

"How so?"

"I don't know if I like him...or if he even likes me. We both have something else to gain from the relationship, if you could even call it a relationship." I explain.

"Hmm...I see," he watches as I pour him a glass of orange juice as well as one for myself, "well, while I've never met this fellow, and I believe that should be rectified soon, I do know how you tend to be concerning romantic interests."

He puts down his plate, "You see, you're like a horizontal asymptote," with one hand, he straightens it out so that it goes straight across from left to right, "and your romantic pursuers are like decreasing exponential functions," with his other arm, he diagrams a line plunging down to his other arm, but leveling out just as it reaches his other arm, "they come racing to meet you, but it's mathematically impossible to do so, since exponential functions can never meet with their horizontal asymptotes."

I raise an eyebrow and chuckle, "Ed, you do realize nobody's going to understand what you just said, right?"

He puts his arms down and picks his plate back up, "I know...I just felt like it had to be said."

We walk up to the table where Captain Essen is nibbling a bagel, she looks up, "Oh, hello you two, please, sit."

We sit across from her, and Ed takes a chunk out of the top of his muffin, chewing profusely.

"I'm surprised I've never heard of you before, Ed's never mentioned having any friends...at all." she confesses.

I laugh, "Ed's interests often lead him to a more private life than most, but he's a very good friend."

"How long have you two known each other?" she asks.

"Since we were kids, junior high, I think."

"Sixth grade, basketball court, someone threw my lunchbox into the bushes, you tore after it and got poison ivy. I thankfully, knew how to concoct a quick remedy for her rashes and was able to stop the swelling within a day or two." Ed explains.

I smile, "Wow, you still remember."

"Of course, it was the first considerate thing a classmate had ever done for me;" he grins back, but then glances over to his boss, "Natalie here would make a great police officer, don't you think?"

Captain Essen furrows her brow, "Wha-what makes you think that, Ed?"

"Oh just the fact that she's already had basic police training, but was declined because she'd applied before the height restrictions were lifted, also because she's been very secretive with me for the past five years after we graduated from high school which makes me suspect she's been working for the government during that time, also not to mention that currently your male-to-female ratio for police officers is fifteen male officers for every female officer. A little bit of a deficit, don't you think?" he smiles triumphantly.

Damn, although I shouldn't be surprised Ed would figure out I'd been working for the government. He's just prone to figuring out everything.

"Oh...well Natalie, would you be interested in joining the police force? We are in need of officers."

It's true, it was my dream to become a police officer all through high school, and I did get training, which was elevated further by my CIA training. It's just that I'm about six inches under minimum height requirement, and the only reason I by-passed operative requirements was because of an incident that happened at my college…

"I'll consider it." I conclude, smiling.

"Good," she hands me a card, "here's my number, we'll be in touch."

* * *

><p>I find Oswald waiting by my door just as I'm about to leave for work. I smile, as he offers his hand, which I take,<p>

"How did your meeting with the MCU officers go?"

With our linked hand, he pulls me closer, "Well, they didn't believe me at first, but as soon as I told them I'd seen Fish with Martha Wayne's missing necklace, they believed me. They're the few good cops, but they're not corruptible, so I'll have to be careful around them."

I nod, jogging down every word in my memory, "Good, do you think they could make an arrest using that information?"

He shakes his head, "No, the police are in on it. They framed another man for the murder of the Waynes. This is just to get some cops on my side. They'll be valuable assets when I actually make a move on Fish."

We make our way down the final flight of stairs to the lobby. I stroke his chin, "It's almost like you're some kind of...criminal mastermind."

He takes my other hand into his, "Oh, make no mistake, I am." he leans in and kisses me on the lips, and his hands wrestle out of mine and grab at my hips as he pulls me further into the kiss.

"Would you two please get a room?" the drugged out manager grumbles from his desk.

****Author's Note: ****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: Awe, thanks, I was contemplating saving the love confession for later down the line, but it just seemed so appropriate for that moment. And I'd say that Natalie/Trixie is still pretty far off from coming to any sort of conclusion about her feelings for him, especially since new factors keep getting thrown at her, like Oswald's violence.****

****Kitten: Thank you :)****

****Guest: Yeah, the storyline will basically follow the show now. And which part killed you? The love confession or the West Side Story reference?****

****Thanks! :)****


	23. Remember, Things Change

Chapter 23

I'm walking in the upstairs area to check up on one of the other girls who's entertaining one of Falcone's men. Approaching the door, I politely knock,

"Maria, the show starts in twenty minutes, best wrap things up in there, alright?"

"Okay!" a female voice replies.

I smile and make my way back to the stairs when I hear a couple in another one of the rooms. I check and find that the room next door is empty. Entering the room, I cross to the mirror connecting the two rooms. Removing the adhesive layer, I look through and see that the couple is Fish and another man I don't recognize. He definitely isn't Lazlo, he looks considerably older and taller.

"Find something interesting?" I whip around and see it's Oswald, standing in the doorway.

I nod, "Fish's got another lover."

He crosses the room and peers with me, "Hang on...that's Nikolai, one of Falcone's men...but, they hate each other-"

"Shh! They're talking." I hush him, pressing my index finger against his lips.

"The old man doesn't suspect anything, right?" Fish asks as she and Nikolai cuddle in bed.

"Of course not," he replies in a thick Russian accent, "he will not suspect a thing when I wrestle him out. And you will be there, by my side."

She chuckles, stroking his cheek, "That's right," she smirks, blushing, "you devil."

I turn around and see Oswald gazing at them, mesmerized. I raise an eyebrow, "You can look all you want, but I've got a show to do."

I playfully mess with his hair as I make my way to the door, but I stop halfway through. Looking back, I see Oswald still staring at the couple in the other room. I sigh, my expression worried, I feel terrible right now, hopefully I'm not conveying that to him.

I walk back, and brush his shoulder, leaning in and whispering into his ear, "Don't forget about me, okay?" before I kiss him on the cheek.

He takes my hand, and kisses it, his mouth practically sucking on my palm. He releases it, and lets my hand slide from his, "How could I ever?"

I smile, before walking out of the room. A wave of guilt washes over me, how could I say such things to a dead man?

* * *

><p>I prepare for the final number of the night in the dressing room. I adjust my costume, a pseudo-magician's outfit comprised of a white button up shirt with a black bowtie, cropped jacket with coattails, black shorts with fishnet stockings, and stiletto heels. To finish it off, a black top hat, white gloves, and a magician's cane. I check the rim of the hat and the tag reads: <em>Mistress of Magic Tricks and Props<em>.

I line up as the introduction music begins to play. Ann, dressed in a simpler black leotard and fishnets, taps me on the shoulder,

"Hey, do you know why Fish is closing up early tonight?"

I shrug, "Probably has some business to attend to. Maybe she's entertaining guests."

"I heard she's holding auditions for a new comedy act she's trying to put together," one of the other dancers suggests, "one of the other girls got caught sleeping with one of Maroni's men, so there's an open slot."

There's applause from the audience as we enter the stage, I myself taking front and center while the four other girls line up in spots to the side of me. Spreading my legs apart, I place my cane downward, with one end on the ground, pressing it down with my hands as I start to sing,

"_You have to understand the way I am Mein Herr,_" I flip my head to the right, "_a tiger is a tiger, not a lamb Mein Herr,_" my head then flips to the left, "_you'll never turn the vinegar to jam Mein Herr,_" I turn and face front, "_so I do,_" I take a step forward, "_what I do,_" and I take another step, lifting my cane off the ground and resting it on my shoulder, "_when I'm through,_" another step, "_then I'm through,_" one more step, "_and I'm through,_" I place my cane down, shifting myself sideways and leaning on it before waving to the audience and smirking, "_Toodle-oo!_"

In place, I start bouncing, mainly moving my hips and shoulders, "_Bye, bye Mein Lieber Herr. Farewell Mein Lieber Herr. It was a fine affair but now it's over,_" I straighten my back and tip my top hat. I turn around and start walking across the stage, "_and though I use to care, I need the open air, you're better off without me Mein Herr._"

I slam my cane down, striking a pose. I then start bouncing in place, shifting my weight from leg to leg, "_Don't dab your eye, Mein Herr, or wonder why Mein Herr,_" I spin, and stop to face the audience, holding my cane in both hands and pushing it in front of me, as I prance around the stage, "_I've always said that I was a rover,_" I kick my leg into the air before I continue walking, "_you mustn't knit your brow, you should have known by now, you'd every cause to doubt me Mein Herr._"

I stop in place, holding my cane off to the side, I daintily take off my top hat and hold it to my chest, "_Bye...bye Mein Lieber Herr, farewell Mein Lieber Herr. It was a fine affair but now it's over,_" I begin walking back as the other girls start moving, bringing on black chairs. I toss my hat backstage before sitting down in the centerstage chair, "_and though I use to care, I need the open air, you're better off without me Mein Herr._"

The four other girls join me in the song, one sitting in a chair and the other standing behind them. We all start continually crossing our legs from one leg to the other, "_Don't dab your eye Mein Herr, or wonder why Mein Herr,_" the girls in the chairs turn to the side and lean back, kicking our legs while still remaining in the chairs, "_I've always said I was a rover, you mustn't knit your brow, you should have known by now, you've every cause to doubt me Mein Herr._"

The girls in the chairs switch with the standing girls, while I get out of my chair, walk around the chair, and lift my leg over the chair so my heel hits the seat, "_Bye-bye Mein Lieber Herr,_" I climb over the chair and stand with both feet on it, "_auf wiedersehen, Mein Herr,_" I step down as the girls and I walk in a circle around the chairs. I twirl my cane in front of me as we sing,"_es war sehr gut, Mein Herr, und vorbei.__Du kennst mich wohl, Mein Herr. Ach lebe wohl, Mein Herr! Du sollst mich nicht mehr sehen, Mein Herr._"

We split into two parts, with me singing a solo and the other girls having their own part,

"_Bye-bye Mein Lieber Herr…_" I stand up on one of the side chairs as the girls encircle me, singing the previous verse, I get down and run to the next side chair, "_und vorbei,_" I join in with the girls for a second before jumping off of the other chair, "_Du kennst mich wohl Mein Herr…_" I stand center stage, my cane tucked under my arm, I hold both arms out to the audience as the girls sit down in the chairs, two sharing the center chair, "_and bye-bye._" I wave goodbye to the audience before walking back and sitting in the center chair with the two other girls.

In the chair, I stand, the song now faster than ever, "_Bye-bye Mein Lieber Herr, farwell Mein Lieber Herr_," the two girls beside me flip backwards and land on the seat before standing along with me, "_it was a fine affair, but now it's over,_" I sit back down and rest my head on the arm of the chair, throwing my legs up and backpedalling, "_and though I-_" we stop and face the audience, "_use to care-_" we all get off of the chairs and collapse onto our knees on the ground, "_I need the-_" we slide on our knees to the edge of the stage, "_open air,_" I return to singing alone as we stand up and the other girls run back to the chairs, "_you're better off without me, you'll get on without me,_" I run back to the center chair as the girls sing their separate part, "_Mein Herr!_" I hold the final note as I stand on top of the chair, both arms in the air. Still singing, I fall back over the chair, and Ann, standing behind the chair, catches me, and throws me under the chair. I slide from under the chair all the way to center stage, and strike a finishing pose.

There's wild applause from the audience, as we all take a bow and walk offstage. Lazlo gets up onstage with a mic, thanking the audience for attending and that we'll be closing early tonight. I collect my hat and cane and walk to the prop room to return them. I'm halfway down the hall when a young man in a black dress shirt, tie, and leather jacket,

"Excuse me, but...could you tell me where I can find the comedy auditions?"

I look over this guy, he barely looks eighteen, but maybe he just has one of those faces.

"Oh, yeah, you're kind of early, we still need to clear the stage...maybe you could wait backstage for now."

He smiles, "Aww, great, thanks," he shuffles around awkwardly, before offering his hand, "I'm Jack."

I shake his hand, "Nice to meet you Jack, I'm Trixie."

"Was that you singing back there? You're pretty good."

I chuckle, "Thanks."

"Oh, is this the fresh meat?" Fish asks, making her entrance with Oswald tailing behind her. She smiles, "I kid of course. Come, I'll see you now."

Jack follows Fish out to the front, Oswald looking back at me, a suspicious look on his face, before continuing with them.

I return my objects to the prop room when Morgan approaches me, an eye patch covering his left eye,

"What the hell is wrong with your boyfriend?!"

I toy with my cane, "I...I don't know. You're the one who got caught stealing money."

"But that's the thing, I didn't! I didn't steal any money. I was in Mooney's office to get the list of hers for Oswald, but when I showed it to him, but he just laughed."

I whip around, "Let me see that list."

"Th-the list? Why would you want to see it? This is between Oswald and me."

I flip out my dagger, pointing the blade to his throat, "Show me, the list."

Morgan looks down at the crescent blue daggers, "Those...are...Amanda's weapons. You're the agent." he realizes aloud.

"Maybe I am, maybe Oswald just gave these to me."

"No...no, it all makes sense now. Oswald...is your front. You're just using him in case Fish finds out there's a mole."

There's a crashing sound coming from outside, and Morgan and I run to the restaurant area, peeking our heads out the window just enough to what's going on. Oswald screams as Fish beats him down with a chair.

"Guess she found out." Morgan mutters under his breath.

There's a pain in my heart as I watch her take a silver knife, "Don't be so sure."

With the knife, she stabs Oswald in his left ankle, his screech filling the room. I want to help him...but no, no, this is a step forward for me. With Oswald out of the picture, I'll be able to work undisturbed. Two of Fish's men walk in and collect the nearly unconscious Oswald. Morgan and I get out of the way as they pass us. Oswald's eyes meet mine as he's dragged out into the alleyway and I see...tears. Genuine tears. He lowers his head and scrunches his fists as the two men pull him out of sight.

"Thank you for telling me." Fish coos, placing her hand on my shoulder.

Morgan gives me a look of disgust as she leaves us, "...why? You could've used him as a front for longer. Why were you so quick to get rid of him?"

"Why?" I repeat, "Because, I could handle his blackmail, his violence, his psychopathic tendencies...that's just business. We work with people like that all the time, am I right?"

He nods as I continue, "But the second it becomes personal, when it becomes about something other than the mission, that's when they have to go. No exceptions."

"Wha-what was it about? If I may ask?"

I cross my arms, my voice cold and calculating, "To be honest, I'm not sure what he was trying to achieve...love...dominance...or something in between. But what I do know is what I've achieved-"

"Revenge?" he guesses.

I twist my lips, "Business."

****Author's Note: please note that, as of writing this chapter, I have not seen the latest episode of Gotham (episode 10)****

****Song Natalie/Trixie sings: "Mein Herr" from "Cabaret"****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: Thanks, I love writing for Ed, and we'll be seeing more of him while Oswald's "out of the picture".****

****GibbyCentral: Lol, I was considering that, but I have a feeling they'll meet on the show itself, so I'll wait for that.****

****Thanks! :)****


	24. Dreams In Darkness

Chapter 24

I stand in darkness. There seems to be a light shining under me but, I can barely see in front of me and...and I can't move. I try as hard as I can, but my muscles remain motionless. I can only stare forward as I see a figure in the distance, illuminated by an overcasting yellow light. Its features are hidden by shadows, but it looks like a man with his hands in his pockets. He steps out of the shadows to reveal he's Oswald, dressed in a long overcoat, dress shirt, and bowtie. The dark circles under his eyes as well as his sinister grin are emphasized by the dim lighting. My first thought is that he's going to attack me, try to kill me. I'd prepare myself for a fight, but my body is frozen in place.

He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out something small, something I can't quite see. He slowly starts pacing toward me, the small object held out in front of him. As he approaches ever closer, I realize the object in his pale hand is his mother's wedding ring. No...no no no no no.

He passes the light and into the darkness, although I can still the faintest contours of his body. He brings the ring up to his face, and the deafening sounds of ripping flesh can be heard from him. I want to scream, I panic, looking for any route of escape, and I realize I can suddenly move my head around. I look to my sides and realize why I can't move, my wrists are shackled and I'm strung up on chains. The grey metal chains lifting me off of the ground seem to connect to nothing, trailing off into the darkness, soundlessly swaying back and forth.

Oswald reappears into the light, mere feet away from me. His eyes are gone, replaced only by empty, bloody sockets that seem to stare into eternity. I start hyperventilating as tears are pushed to the brim of my eyelids. He holds up the ring, which is covered in blood along with his hands. There's a wide smile stretched across his face, and his breathing is heavy, visible from his chest. I lower my head, both in shame and in fear of his gaze. He lowers my left arm, the chain making a metallic clinking noise as more chain is revealed. Holding my hand, he slides the ring onto my left ring finger, and I sob as the cold metal and blood fall to my knuckle, the blood slipping further down my arm.

He lifts my chin so that I'm forced to face him. His sickening smile resembles that of a cheshire cat, and his long, dirty, monstrous teeth are coated in blood. He leans in, close enough so that his warm breath grazes my neck,

"My dear Trixie, remember, love is blind." he whispers before closing the space between us and kissing me on the neck.

* * *

><p>I'm jolted awake by a pounding on the door. I look around, and move my hands, waving them in front of me, making sure I can move again. And no ring...thank god no ring.<p>

I look outside and see it's morning, the majority of sunlight hidden by a combination of clouds and urban smog.

I stumble out of bed to answer the door, and fling the door open to reveal a very frazzled Mrs. Cobblepot,

"Where is my son?! He did not come home last night...he never stays out this late...is he with you?!" she peers over my shoulder and into my room accusingly.

I rub my eyes, still adjusting to the light, "No, Mrs. Kabelput, your son didn't come home with me last night."

"Then where is he?!" she beckons.

"He's-" I stop myself. Yes, this woman has been a thorn in my side for the duration of our acquaintance, but, do I really have the right to be the one to tell her that Oswald's dead?

"He's off...with...with another woman." I conclude rather shakily.

She gasps, "No! Tell me, who is this girl?"

"I, I do not know her well," I shift my eyes around, trying to make up a story, "she was blond...with fair skin...very tall, and lots of makeup."

Mrs. Cobblepot gasps, "I knew this would happen...if not with you then with some other woman!" she crosses the hallway, "Oh, my son, gone into the hands of a venomous snake!"

"Hey lady, would you shut up?!" the man next door shouts from his doorway before slamming it shut.

I cautiously approach Mrs. Cobblepot. She's just lost his son, and while it's no place to be the one to tell her, that doesn't mean I can't show some pity,

"Mrs. Kabelput, if it's any condolence, I think your son wa-...is a wonderful man."

She stops in her tracks, "Yo, you do?"

I nod, "Yes. He offered me a helping hand before I even realized I needed one," I scoff at myself, "I was alone in this city before he...literally, stumbled into my life."

She relaxes slightly, and smiles, "Yes, I did raise him, you know," she sighs, "you know, it does get lonely in the house without Oswald around. Perhaps you'd like to join me for some breakfast?"

I hesitate, but my guilt overpowers me, "I'd like that."

* * *

><p>Oswald stumbles down the grassy road, just having passed a sign stating "Gotham 9 Miles". Having just survived faking his death and being swept to the other side of the river, he's incredibly disheveled, from his clothes to his hair. He needs to hitch a ride if he's ever going to get home. There's a sharp, constant pain in his left foot where Fish stabbed him. He groans as he realizes that this may be permanent. It sure makes travel a pain. When he gets back, he's gonna get back at all of them, Fish, Gilzean, Trixie…<p>

Trixie, that was what he'd least expected, of all the people to betray him. He thought they had something, a mutual agreement. Sure he'd overstepped his bounds a bit when he'd tried to have his way with her, but he thought she'd forgiven him for that. Guess she doesn't forgive as easily as he'd thought.

But...getting dumped into the Gotham Bay, being left for dead and then killing that poor...defenseless fisherman, all of this has given him a new perspective. He was patient, courteous, and gentlemanly to her, and what did that get him? A cold goodbye and a trip down the river, is what. If he wants something, he should just take it, like how he took the sandwich from that old fisherman. Chewing the last bits of it in his mouth, he tastes the familiar flavor of government supplied tuna. It seems like more and more people have to apply for government rations every day.

He looks out to the other side of the bay, the dark skyscrapers of Gotham City looming over him. He'd always been entranced by Gotham's towering high-rises, how they seemed to rise above everything else. These buildings, he'd be like one of them, ascending above all others for the rest of them to look up to, to answer to. With Trixie's betrayal, he'll have to rearrange his plans considerably, and his promise to Falcone complicates things even further. Complicated as they are, his goals are far from impossible, his only concern is whether or not there's still room in his plot for Trixie...should he forgive her for betraying him? He wants to kill her, then again, he wants to do a lot of things to her. The best thing would be to simply kill her, she knows too much. But...she'd still make a wonderful ally, if only he could get her to see things as he did. And if she couldn't...well, he'll just have to kill her, won't he?

****Author's Note: Okay, since it's currently Thanksgiving break, and I have at least two chapters on backlog...*takes out axe*, time to correct some grammar/spelling errors****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: Dawe, don't cry, as we all know, he'll be back, and yes, we'll get to hear his thoughts on the way back, that's why I introduced his third-person perspective earlier on. As for Ed, we'll be seeing more of him, as well as Mrs. Cobblepot****

****Thanks! :)****


	25. A Temporary Setback I Assure You

Chapter 25

Mrs. Cobblepot and I laugh over the stale biscuits and tea she's set up for us. She shows me a picture of Oswald in his high school years, his hair combed back and his protruding nose even more noticeable than it is now.

"He has always been so innocent, but he's very clever," she places down the photo, "oh, I should've known this would happen. He's...he's not prepared for the world. I should've waited longer but, but we needed the money…"

"Mrs. Kabelput, if I may say so, you would've never been ready to let your son go. It just...happens, it's part of growing up. All you can do is...let it happen, and trust his judgement. You raised him well, now it's time to let him make his own decisions."

She stares down at her teacup, and slowly begins nodding, "Thank you, young lady. You're….you're not as bad, as I'd thought."

I take a sip of the weak tea in my cup, "Mrs. Kabelput, I've been wondering, why the confusion over your last name? Oswald and everyone else seems to pronounce it Cobblepot."

"The name was changed, when I was young, just before the persecutions started. I hated it, so when we came here, I said, why still use it? But...poor Ozzy was made fun of for it at school. Those bullies! They, they changed him…"

There's a knocking at the door, and Mrs. Cobblepot gets up and looks through the spyhole.

"Huh! Police officers, looks like," she turns around, "you best be leaving. I'll handle these smups."

I nod, smiling. Placing my cup in the sink, I scurry into Oswald's room to reach the fire escape. It's true, it's easier to reach it from Mrs. Cobblepot's room, but that's not why I'm here.

Closing the door, I make my way to his closet. Sliding in between the piano, I pull out a small flashlight and begin searching within the depths of his secret dwelling area. If he hid it anywhere, it'd be here.

"Good morning ma'am. I'm Detective Allen, and this is my partner Detective Montoya," a deep voice greets from the other room.

Shining my flashlight towards the floor, I immediately spot a large duffel bag shoved into the corner. That wasn't there last time. I get down on my knees and carefully unzip the bag, revealing large bundles of neatly stacked money. So Morgan was telling the truth, he didn't steal any of that money, Oswald did. But, why frame Morgan? Was he afraid of getting caught? Or did he have another motive?

"Never, never in his life my son is away this long. Nightclubs is his business, such hours. But always, he comes home to his mother," Mrs. Cobblepot gushes in the family room.

I roll my eyes as I zip up the bag. Even for her, that's a little much. Why are the cops investigating so soon anyway? It doesn't seem like they've found a body...maybe...maybe these are the cops that Oswald snitched to. Out of everyone, they'd know what's going on.

"Mrs. Cobblepot-"

"Kabelput."

Allen chuckles, "...Mrs. Kabelput, do you know anyone who might want to do your son harm?"

I'm just about to leave the room when my flashlight shines upon a new picture hanging from the wall. Unlike the others, this one features a man and a woman, and it's not a drawing or a sketch. Instead, it appears to be made of paper and melted wax. A black paper cutout of a man and a woman standing under an umbrella serving as the focus while they're surrounded by melting wax in vivid black and blue colors, sort of simulating rain. The man undoubtedly looks like Oswald, with his mangled hair and pointed shoes, and the woman...looks like me. She has my long hair, the low heels I often wear, and my less-than-desirable short, wide figure. No wonder Oswald liked me, I must've made him feel tall and slim.

"No," Mrs. Cobblepot replies to Detective Allen, "I-I would feel it, a mother feels these things," she pauses momentarily,

"It's a woman. Some painted slut has him in her clutch."

I smile, at least she's retelling my story to the cops, although I highly doubt they believe her. A reason I know most girls wouldn't be into Oswald is because...well, because I was into him. I have a weird taste in guys.

Inching out of the closet space, I silently escape the Cobblepot's apartment and scale back up to mine. The minute I reach the top, there's a knocking at my door. Have the cops come to question me as well?

I open the door to reveal Ed, as smiley as ever, holding a small stack of papers.

"Hey Ed, what're you doing here, shouldn't you be at work, and...what's this?" I ask, gesturing to the papers.

Ed walks in, moving in a sort of shuffling motion, "I have your updated resume, as well as family documentation, and recommendations from both a Mr. Simon Fay and a Ms. Amanda Waller," he holds out the papers to me, "everything you'll need to apply for a job at the precinct."

I smile, "Ed, this is great but, I did say I'm still considering it, right?"

"But...this is...just for...you know. Your consideration."

I pick up the stack of papers and start flipping through them, "How did you get your hands on this anyway?"

"I made some calls, did some research. You know, I knew I should've tried the CIA first, not the FBI." His tone softens, becoming almost sensual, as his eyes droop, "You always said you wanted to see the world."

I jerk my head up. I'm not sure how to feel about his illegal invasion of my privacy, but, fond memories flood back of me wanting to become a police officer. That is...before I knew how corrupt the job was, especially in Gotham. Perhaps I could arrange my scheduling hours so that I would only have to work during the day, so I could still hold my job at Fish Mooney's. My only concern is...what if there's a crossover? What if someone I arrest recognizes me? But, it would mean not one, but two ways to find candidates for Amanda, and it was my dream for the longest time…

I put down the stack of papers, and Ed places his hand on them, leaning in, his fingers finding mine, "Natalie...it would mean...so much to me if you accept this proposition. I, I miss the days of us being a team."

I look down at the floor, "Ed…"

* * *

><p>Oswald lies down on his back in the mobile home that serves as his temporary living quarters. He looks up at his diagram of Gotham's power structure hanging up on the wall. Everything fit perfectly...everything was in place, until the Waynes were killed. Now there's a power vacuum, a hole in the system. And he will be the one to fill it. Not Fish, or Maroni, but Oswald Cobblepot. People will tremble in fear to hear that name, and those who don't tremble will adore it out of fear. Including Trixie...Trixie.<p>

He reaches up and grasps the empty air. If only he were a hand upon that cheek...

He shakes himself out of his delusion. She's nothing more than a pawn in his game. And yet, he imagines them together, evenings of fine dining and opera, always concluded with a passionate night between sheets. She would find him charming and humorous, and in her darkest moments, she'd come running to him, confiding in him her deepest secrets.

He knows of course, that his fantasy could never be fully realized, but, with Trixie, he comes pretty close. He has to admit, he enjoys her company. He begins to imagine her glowing, sincere praise, her arms wrapped around him, the genuine concern in her voice that she tries to toss off with a smirk. He licks his lips, and quietly chuckles to himself. It'd be an awful waste if he has to kill her. There's so much that they could accomplish together...so much.

The man in the closet starts struggling, snapping him back to reality. He's not quite sure what to do with him, he's already had to knock him out a couple of times, but he keeps waking up. This is becoming a problem, what if someone hears him?

He gets up and waddles over to the open closet door, twisting his lips as he stares down the sobbing, dejected college boy, who's been tied up and gagged. His preppy looks and nice hair remind Oswald of those boys from Gotham Academy, the ones who picked on him, called him Penguin...just like him and his friend had.

He smiles maliciously, "Forgive me but, do you have a cell phone I could borrow?"

The boy looks up, dazed and confused.

Oswald rolls his eyes, "Oh fine. Make me do everything myself," he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pocketknife, "you try anything, and I gut you like a fish," he suddenly bursts into laughter, "oh...yeah, like Fish."

Holding the knife to his chin, he searches through his pants pockets, taking his time to feel through the fabric to his skin. Oswald grins as the man's expression becomes one of discomfort and disgust. Finally, in his back pocket, he pulls out a cell phone.

"Can this take video?"

He nods his head profusely, and flipping the phone open, Oswald sets it to record. With knife in one hand, phone in the other, Oswald laughs malevolently.

"Show time!"

****Author's Note:****

****Laura: Thank you :)****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: Thanks, and while Mrs. Cobblepot and Natalie/Trixie might not exactly be besties (oh god, my pre-teen is showing), they will certainly have things to offer each other. As for Oswald, yeah...she's gonna be in for a surprise when he gets back into town****

****Emily: Here it is! Enjoy!****

****Follow me on Twitter (Fanfiction isn't letting me use the "at" sign): Tandothewriter****

****Thanks! :)****


	26. Gotham Needs Them, They Are Its Future

Chapter 26

I can't believe I'm going through with this.

Ed and I stand at the entrance of the Gotham P.D. precinct, the dark painted wood setting the tone for the crowded station. Office desks crowd the bottom floor, which are overlooked by a circular balcony.

"Uhm...Natalie, probably best if we keep moving," Ed suggests, tapping my shoulder.

I nod silently, before continuing to walk into the precinct. The jail cells are in the same area as the desks, packed mostly with the homeless and low-level thugs. No one I knew, thank goodness.

We walk up the stairs to the balcony, where Captain Essen's office is. She stands upon our arrival, as Ed closes the door behind us.

"Oh, thank goodness Natalie. You couldn't have come at a better time," she informs me, shaking my hand.

I hand her the papers Ed gave me, and she starts skimming through them.

"Well, I'm happy to bring you onboard right away. You can change into a police uniform in the locker room downstairs."

I smile, "Yes, thank you, Captain Essen."

I open the door and start walking out when I turn around to see Ed, standing proudly with his arms in front of him. I know that look, he's looking for some sort of acknowledgement, some way to show her appreciation. She gives a tired expression.

"Thank you, Ed."

He smiles, before following me as we exit.

"Is that her cookie cutter response?" I ask him.

"It's a response. That's something, correct? It can only get better from here," Ed replies optimistically.

I smile, and as we walk down the flight of stairs to the main floor, a woman with sharp glasses and her hair back approaches the steps, carrying a large paper box.

"Oh, Kristen!" Ed calls out, scampering toward her, "I have someone I'd like you to meet," he points to me, "this is Natalie. A longtime friend of mine. She's new here, so, could you direct her to the women's changing room? Because...I...I kind of don't know where that is."

"Well, Mr. Nygma, if you could carry these papers to Administration, I would gladly do that," she replies coldly.

Ed takes the box that Kristen's carrying, and I smile as I notice their hands touch for a brief second while making the transaction. Ed however, can not handle the weight of the box and it plummets to the ground, landing square on Kristen's foot.

"Ouch! Nygma!"

Ed looks up, worried, "I, am...so...so, sorry, Ms. Kringle! I...I, guess I underestimated the mass and volume of the package."

I intervene, easily lifting the box up with one hand. I turn it away from Kristen before carefully handing it to Ed, who is now somewhat prepared for its weight. The box weighs him down so that now he's hunched over.

"I'll just be taking this...excuse me…" he says as he begins awkwardly shuffling through the crowd of officers and desks.

"So...you're friends with Mr. Nygma?" Kristen asks, as we head down a side staircase to a basement level.

I nod, "Yes, he and I have been friends since childhood."

She abruptly stops in her tracks, turning around to face me, "I'm sorry, I know you said you guys are friends, but please tell me you're actually his girlfriend, or his fiance, or his wife...and you guys are just saying you're friends for professional reasons."

"...no, we're not...why do you ask? Is something wrong?"

She starts walking again, her hands on her waist, head down, "I'm sorry, I hardly know you, and you seem rather nice so, I'll just, keep quiet on the matter."

I twist my lips, yeah, that would probably be best.

* * *

><p>Oswald turns on the rusty old sink to wash his hands of blood. Too bad the ransom video didn't work, he could've earned a decent amount from that boy and his family. All he has now is some change, and his pocketknife. The car of the two young men has enough gas to get him back to Gotham, but he certainly couldn't keep it, it'll be on a stolen cars list soon enough, and with the gas crisis, he wouldn't be able to find a refill even if he were to steal it.<p>

He looks out the window, staring across the bay to Gotham City. Dark clouds seem to stir around that city alone, as if it's meant to be drenched in darkness. To be fair, it is, after all, very soon, he will be the one in control of it. Darkness indeed, for there is beauty in darkness as there is order in chaos.

Oswald gets out a black trash bag and dumps the man's lifeless body into it, and notices the blood stain he's made on the trailer carpet. Perhaps as a courtesy he'll clean that up before leaving.

His mind begins to wander back to Trixie, why do his thoughts keep running back to her? It's just, there's something familiar about her, something comforting that he can't quite put his finger on. Certainly, on that fateful night they'd met, he hadn't been expecting her first words to be to ask if he was okay. He'd been in far worse conditions before and nobody had even blinked an eye. But somehow, his minor injuries had caught her attention. This had been immediately interesting to Oswald, while the first explanation he'd come to had been ulterior motives, he quickly brushed that away. What did she see in him that was useful to begin with? At that time, he must have seemed weak, subservient, hopeless even. He'd figured she would accept his offer to come to his home as a means to use him, maybe steal some of his mother's jewelry. And yet...she did no such thing, throughout her entire stay. He'd planned to catch her in the act, then use it as leverage to sway her into his bed, but, things did not go according to plan. He's rather glad they didn't...things are so much more, interesting now.

**Author's Note: So...Team Edward or Team Oswald? And why? **

**(I know, I know, but c'mon, I've referenced Freud, Shakespeare, decade old comics, Greek tragedies, and slightly overused Latin phrases in this story. Can't I act my own age for once?)**

**Emily: Thanks! Posting every other day seems to be working well for me right now.**

**Fuchsia Grasshopper: I agree, very cute! And yes, the picture she sees is also the story cover. As for Oswald's fantasy, it's actually a reference to my other Pixie story "The Doctor Is In", in which they do just what he describes. Who knows, I might put in a similar scene once Oswald comes waddling back into town. And yes, true to the show, he will be more sinister towards her upon his return**

**GibbyCentral: I really want to have a rivalry between the two, but I'm also waiting for them to meet on the actual show first! If they don't by the end of Season 1, I'll bite the bullet and do it! Promise!**

**Lola93091: Thanks! And yeah, I'm getting a lot of milage out of that short trailer scene, Oswald's got a lot of thinking to do. And thank you for checking out the AO3 version of the story, I try to give something exclusive to every site I post to. I plan on writing alternative scenes for BOAF, just like I did for TDIN. Particularly, I'm thinking about changing the attempted rape scene (it was originally intended to be actual rape, but I backed off in fear of upsetting readers), and the dream sequence (originally was going to depict Dream Oswald actually gouging out his eyes with the ring, as a symbolic gesture and a double reference to both **_**Oedipus the King **_**and Freud's Oedipus complex)**

**Thanks! :)**


	27. Dynamic Duo

Chapter 27

I walk out of the locker room in a blue police officer uniform, blue shirt, black pants, and a black leather jacket. Captain Essen already has a badge ready for me in her office.

"Normally I'd only give these out at police training graduation, but with our current numbers, I think I can make an exception," she concludes, pinning the badge to my shirt, "sorry there's no official ceremony for you."

Ed starts clapping loudly, beaming at me, the sound echoing through the otherwise silent room.

Captain Essen clears her throat, gesturing for Ed to stop.

"There's been a recent media leak concerning missing street kids. The public is panicking, so I'm having all officers on duty to focus on locating these kids," she explains, "I want you to cover the south side of the warehouse district, it's school time so any kids you see out there are automatically considered delinquents."

I nod as she rolls up the map, "Ed has your keys to your police car."

I turn around and see him hold up a small ring with a key and a remote attached. I smile, before thanking Captain Essen and leaving her office. I reach out to take the key from Ed, but he snatches it away from me, lifting it up so I can't reach.

"Na, ah, ah, I am going with you," he declares.

I raise an eyebrow, "What? Ed, you don't even have police training, and besides, don't you have your own work to do?"

"I pushed for you to have this job so that we could be a team once more, not so you could run off on your own and do wonderful things without me," he explains, "besides, they never give me anything I couldn't easily clear in twenty minutes top."

I roll my eyes, if only I could be as efficient as Ed, "Alright, but if anyone finds out, you snuck in the back and I had no idea you were here."

Ed pumps his fists, "Yes!"

We walk down to the main floor when we pass by two male cops. I glance over at the younger, cleanshaven one. He was the detective that interrupted Morgan's beating. But it's not him that notices her, it's the other one, heavier, wearing a hat.

"Hey Nygma, you got a girlfriend?" he chuckles jokingly.

Ed stops in his tracks, "No...not yet...that is to say, that it couldn't be a possibility in the future, or it has to be specifically with her...this is Natalie by the way," he steps aside, presenting me with both hands, "Natalie, these men are Detectives Gordon and Bullock."

"Hold on...aren't you one of the dancers at Fish Mooney's?" Gordon asks.

I shrug, trying to keep my cool, "No idea what you're talking about."

Bullock nudges Gordon on the shoulder, "C'mon, man, those girls all look the same. It's probably nothing."

I turn around and begin walking away, but Gordon points an accusing finger toward me, "I've got my eye on you kid."

* * *

><p>I sigh as I sit in the driver's seat of the police cruiser. Ed sits in the passenger's seat, making sure to buckle his seatbelt, and reminding me with a gesture to buckle mine.<p>

"You never told me you were a dancer," he mumbles, staring straight ahead.

Of course of all people Ed would catch my bluff, "Hey, a girl's gotta make a living somehow."

"Well you could've told me before I pushed to have you become an officer!" he exclaims, turning to her and placing his arm on the chair.

I start up the car and pull out of the police parking lot, driving down towards the warehouse district.

"Don't worry about it. Besides, I'm not exactly breaking any laws by having a night job."

"But that could be counted as a mob affiliation!" Ed points out.

I arch my eyebrow, "C'mon, what cop _doesn't _have some kind of mob affiliation?"

He grits his teeth, his one bad tooth pushed back behind the others, "...point taken."

I park under the freeway, just a couple of blocks outside the warehouse district. When we stop, I take off my seatbelt and grab a small duffel bag stuck in between the seats.

"So...what's the plan?" he asks, as I unzip the bag, revealing a set of dark, raggedy clothing.

"The south side of the warehouse district includes the Flea, a hangout for street kids. If it's still around, I'm gonna head in and ask around about any missing children."

He nods, "Oh right, you've told me about the Flea, but you'd never take me-"  
>"That changes today," I toss him a large leather jacket and black skinny jeans, "put these on."<p>

He looks down at the clothes, "You do know these aren't exactly...to my particular tastes."

"I know, that's not the point. The point is to fit in with the other street kids," I explain, as I start removing my police uniform.

Ed's eyes widen as I remove my shirt, briefly exposing my bra before I pull on my old fishnet shirt. I smirk, "What? You've seen me naked before."

He remains dead silent for a while longer as I change from my officer pants to a black miniskirt and stockings, "I...I actually haven't."

I look up, thinking to myself for a second, "Oh...you haven't, have you?" I finish my transformation by yanking on a pair of black boots, "Well, there's a first time for everything."

Ed quickly fumbles to change as I watch out for any approaching people. I catch quick glances of Ed changing from his work slacks to the skinny jeans I gave him. Before we'd left the precinct I'd grabbed these clothes from the clothing drop off. Whoever use to own these clothes are now in a prison jumpsuit, so hopefully they won't miss these too much.

"Do I look like a street-wise daddy-o?" Ed asks with his nasal voice.

I cringe, "Ed...street kids just talk...normally, okay?" but I can't help but examine his change in appearance, "Hang on…"

I zip open his leather jacket, revealing his shirt and tie still intact. I remove his tie,and unbutton his shirt to the point where it becomes hidden by the leather jacket. I mess up his hair so it looks far less pristine. That's better, he looks a lot more like a street kid. There's just one thing missing…

"Ah, we have to lose the glasses," I realize, taking his large, harn-rimmed glasses and slowly pulling them off.

Ed squints, his eyes appearing much smaller with his glasses. I look up at the finished product, and while he certainly has lost his geeky charm, it's been replaced by something else. He's...well, he's hot, in a much more conventional manner.

"Is this really necessary?" he questions, re-parting his hair so that it's out of his face.

"Yes Ed. If you don't wanna stick out like a sore thumb, then yes, this is necessary."

"But...won't the children realize that we're not...children? I mean...I know you're exceptionally short, and could probably pass for seventeen...but I-"

I shake my head, "As long as you don't go around saying things like 'daddy-o', no, I think we'll be fine. You're babyfaced enough to pass for a teenager as well, and besides, those kids who've been on the heavy stuff? They look like they're thirty, at least."

Ed nods, and we both exit the car.

"Hang on, I have an invention I want to try!" Ed proposes. From his discarded lab coat pocket, he pulls out a black box with a green computer screen. He sticks it to the front of the car, the machine latching onto the door as if magnetized, "It's a passcode device of my own invention. I can attach it to the car, and if anyone tries to break in," he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small remote with a singular red button. He pushes the button, and the car jumps slightly as electricity courses through the entire vehicle. While no cartoonish streaks of lightning are visible, there are some small sparks that fly out from the hood.

"You're sure that your device won't...set the car on fire?"

He nods confidently, "The rubber shocks meant for the car's breaks should protect the electricity from reaching the engine, just from the way they're manufactured."

I raise an eyebrow as we start walking to the warehouse district, "You better be right," but then I realize something, "say, what exactly is the passcode?"

He smirks knowingly, "...dynamic duo."

"Is that referring to us?" I chuckle.

He nods, before wrapping his arm around my shoulders, and raising up his other arm to sweep in front of us, "Yes, as partners in crime, we'll stop at nothing to thwart an evil doer's plot," he leans his head in close to mine, bending down to reach my level, "and with my brains and your charisma, we're an unstoppable force."

He gets up and accidentally hits the top of his head on a stop sign.

"Ouch…" he rubs his forehead as we reach the street corner, "kind of hard to see without glasses though."

I can't help but giggle a little at his misfortune, "Here, let me help you."

I take his hand, and lead him along the street, Ed stumbling along with the pull of my hand. I know how this may look to outside strangers, but honestly, Ed and I are just friends, really. But...why do I need to keep telling myself that?

****Author's Note: Your responses to my "Team Edward vs. Team Oswald" question have been nothing short of phenomenal, thank you! The teams are currently tied, perhaps some more reviewers will weigh in later on, but that's how it stands as of now****

****Sketch1997: Team Edward it is! :D Oh, I know what you mean. I personally find Ed more attractive than Oswald, but the show makes Oswald out as the more interesting character (plus I can be more objective about Oswald, and my judgement is less clouded by fangirling)****

****Alesha: Hey, thanks for the super long review! I love these, when I get an email alert and I see the review is truncated for length in the email it just makes me so happy :3.****

****I try to keep the chapters down to a thousand to two thousand words, but if there's a song, or a bunch of little scenes in succession, it can be difficult. And thanks for the compliments on Natalie, OCs are kind of my specialty, and for Natalie especially I wanted to take some risks on her character, and hopefully those risks have paid off.****

****And yes, we have one for Team Oswald! Like I said to Sketch1997, Oswald has a much more interesting character (I was kind of worried when I first saw Robin Lord Taylor as Oswald. My first thought was, "Okay, I don't need to be a teenaged girl to know where this is going", thankfully, while my prediction was somewhat correct, the show, and Mr. Taylor, have subverted my expectations) than Ed, although I've been tempted to introduce some personality elements from his other incarnations to fill in the gaps, but then I might start to contradict what the show does, and the last thing I want to do is that ****

****In conclusion, thanks so much, hope you come back to review Chapter 27!****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: Another for Team Oswald! And yeah, a lot has been set up for Oswald, he will always be a major player in the story (after all, the story itself is named after a Penguin centric ******_**Batman: The Animated Series**_******episode with similar themes to the story). And yeah, while the story itself and the audience I'm catering to will make it difficult for me to keep their friendship a pure friendship, I agree that there should be more portrayals of platonic friendships between different sexes in media. As for Oswald being jealous, I'm going to wait to see if they meet up in the show first****

****GibbyCentral: Yes! But again, we'll have to wait for the show to give me the green light first****

****weirdandoutrageous: I agree, it's a hard choice, I'm undecided myself. Yes, Ed would probably be the realistic choice (well, as realistic as these kinds of things can get), and it would be interesting to see her follow him through his transformation into the Riddler, which she'll do regardless. On the other hand, yeah, I myself am surprised how well Oswald and Natalie's chemistry have worked out thus far. It was the toughest thing going into the story, but drawing influences from the show itself, ******_**Richard III, Two Gentlemen of Verona,**_****_**The Phantom of the Opera**_******(the book more so than the musical)******_**, Code Geass, **_******and various others, I've been able to draw something that at least serves the story well.****

****UndercoverSkeleton: Thank you so much! And you're for Team Edward then? Makes sense, I agree that Oswald has done some pretty heinous stuff, and I wanted to show that Natalie hadn't forgiven him when she rats him out to Fish. And Ed, poor Ed, guy can't seem to catch a break. Interviews with the actor have suggested that he has some sort of "snapping point". If/when that'll occur in the first season, I don't know, but if/when it does, I'm sure it'll be...fascinating.****

****Thanks! :)****


	28. The Underworld

Chapter 28

The Flea still exists, located in an abandoned warehouse in the heart of the warehouse district. Since I was last here, they've gotten somewhat more sophisticated, at least as sophisticated as street kids can get. Numerous old wooden tables crowd the majority of the warehouse, with vendors selling stolen objects and little knick knacks. There's loud music playing from two large speakers up on the walkway. The term "street kid" must have expanded sometime while I was away, since I spot at least several individuals who look well into their thirties, and in a natural way. I glance over at Ed and see that he's been fidgeting nonstop, his hands folded into each other and his fingers moving nonstop.

"Don't do that," I discreetly tell him, my eyes darting around, "you'll come off wrong."

"I...I can't...perhaps it's best if I were to return to the car-"

I take his hands, pry them apart, and stick them in the pockets of his leather jacket, "There, you'll look more laid back," I look up at his timid, nervous expression, "also, keep your head up, you look insecure."

"Why such a large emphasis on appearance?" Ed asks, as I browse the various stalls set up around the Flea.

"Appearance is everything, no matter where you go. It telegraphs how you're feeling at that moment, or at least, what you want people to think you're feeling," I explain.

He nods, as we approach a vendor selling small trinkets in wooden boxes.

"I was thinking of getting something for my place," I tell her, "you got anything that sticks out? You know, like, a conversation piece of sorts?"

The vendor looks through one of the boxes, and takes out a small, green ring, a slightly green glow radiating from it, "I got this recently. Seems pretty cool."

I gingerly take the ring, examining it, "Hmm...I remember a friend of mine owning something similar to this a while ago. But I haven't seem them in quite some time," I place the ring back into the box, "in fact, I haven't been seeing a lot of my friends lately. You know what I mean?"

The vendor shrugs, "Yeah, but I mean, it happens all the time."

"But never on this scale, it's like everyone's suddenly skipping town or something."

"Is there a problem here?" I turn around and see a tall, muscular man in his early twenties. He has a confident, snarky grin on his face, and from the corner of my eye I see the vendor shy away.

"Just some small talk is all," I assure the man.

"If you're not going to buy anything, then I suggest you leave," the man threatens, and from behind him two other men walk out, both armed with wooden planks.

"What makes you such an authority?" I challenge, placing my hands on my hips.

He leans back, crossing his arms, "This part of the Flea is _my _turf. And if you're gonna have that attitude…" he gestures to the men with planks, and they step in front of him.

I reach for my daggers but hesitate, I should avoid killing if possible, although, when push comes to shove, it's still an option. Three guys, two if the leader decides to hang back, and I have a feeling he will. As long as I can keep this fight contained, things should be fine.

"It was just a question," I roll my eyes, silently challenging him.

"I think you need to learn a lesson in respect, little girl."

I quietly chuckle to myself at the idea of him calling me a "little girl". The man scrunches his eyebrows in confusion, but that confusion quickly turns to anger.

His two henchmen sense this, and advance forward. I make sure Ed's behind me before I slide into a fighting stance. The other street kids in the Flea stop what they're doing, looking on watchfully as someone stops the music. The man to my left swings first, bringing down his plank. I jump back, and as soon as his arm begins to slow down, I grab his arm and kick him in the stomach, knocking him back. He loses grip of the plank and I grab ahold of it.

The other thug comes at me, swinging his plank. I block his attacks with my plank, holding it with both hands. As he winds up for another swing, I spot an opening, and quickly smack him with the plank, sending him stumbling backward. His back turned to me, I whack him hard with the plank, an audible cracking noise echoing through the warehouse as the board breaks over his back. I dump the plank, now in pieces, as the second man writhes in pain on the ground.

I turn to the leader, who reaches over to a nearby table and grabs a lead pipe, swinging it back and forth as if it were a sword. He runs at me, thrashing the pipe. I duck, dodging it, before I kick him in the shin. He lashes out, swinging his pipe. It hits me square in the jaw, knocking the wind out of me. I fall back, catching myself on a nearby table. The man approaches me, slapping the pipe into the palm of his hand, "You fought well...for a little girl."

His head is knocked forward as a small object bonks him on the head. He turns around and sees Ed, holding a small jar of marbles.

"Mister, I suggest you walk away right now," Ed threatens, clutching the jar tightly, his hands shaking.

The man laughs, turning towards the defenseless Ed, "And what're you going to do about it, dork?"

Ed shies back, before making eye contact with me from across the way. He straightens himself, and hurls another marble from the jar.

It bounces off of the man's stomach. He laughs cruelly, "Oh, ouch, that hurt."

Ed slams the jar to the ground, shattering it, "You are a disgusting human being. It's because of people like you that the world can not advance in civilization," he leans forward, pointing an accusing finger, "you use brute force to intimidate and harm those around you. You think it puts you in some sort of position of power, but really, it just makes you vulnerable...makes you weak."

The man stops in place, and the Flea becomes dead silent as its patrons look on. I take this opportunity and grab the man from behind, grasping his neck and choking him. I kick him in the back of the knee several times until he drops the pipe. Grabbing the pipe, I throw him to the ground and knock him with the pipe in the back of the head, rendering him unconscious.

I stand, and look around as the onlooking patrons of the Flea return to their usual tasks, a general buzz returning to the marketplace, and the music is started up again. I run to Ed, stepping over the unconscious man.

"Ed! Are you okay?" I ask him worriedly.

"I think it's you we should be more concerned for," he points to the newly formed bruise on my left cheek, where the pipe had struck me.

"Oh, this?" I gently rub it, the sensitive nerves pricking a hint of pain, "It's nothing, don't worry about it."

"You...you took on Aaron…" a young boy, probably in his early teens, approaches us.

I smirk, "Yeah, turns out, the guy was mostly just bark. No big."

He comes closer, his eyes small and beady, "You...mentioned that you're looking for missing children?"

I nod, "Mhm, you know anything about that?"

"My older brother went missing a couple of days ago…" he explains, "my name's Otis."

My smirk turns to a smile, extending my hand, "Hi Otis, I'm Nat," I gesture behind me, "and this is Ed."

Otis takes his hand and places it into mine, and he gives a weak, light handshake. I stand, "So, how about we find these missing kids together?"

I glance over at Ed, and he raises his eyebrow at the use of my false name, but I keep my confident smile. Even if this kid knows nothing about our case, this is a good opportunity to reestablish relationships in the Gotham street environment.

Ed hangs back, remaining silent as we follow Otis out of the Flea. He leans in and whispers to me, "I see you're using your old street name, clever move. What I'm worried about are those brutes you fought back there. We've made ourselves some clear enemies."

"Ed, you've seen me fight dozens of times, you know that I can handle guys like them. If they come back," I pat the knives strapped just under my skirt as well as the bag of rigged marbles in a small bag attached to my belt, "I'll be ready."

****Author's Note: Currently, counting votes from Fanfiction and Wattpad, Team Edward is in the lead by a landslide! Definitely wasn't expecting this :)****

****Song that plays in the Flea: "Under The Darkness" from Kichiku Megane (warning, source material is NSFW)****

****LittleFireQueen: Everyone's rooting for some kind of rivalry between the two, and I may/may not be able to deliver...maybe ;)****

****GibbyCentral: Yaaas :)****

****Starkid who Loki'd Hogwarts: Wow, I spot at least three references to nerd culture in your username, nice going! And personally, I don't Natalie and Ed's relationship and sibling like, but of course you're entitled to your own interpretation. And Oswald is probably one of my top characters as well...and yes, I'll admit, Mr. Taylor is attractive, although that's not the only selling point of his character (hopefully...right?)****

****UndercoverSkeleton: Yay, Team Edward! And you'll get to see a lot more character development to come, characters tend to be my specialty ;). And Oswald will be coming back into the picture soon, the story is on Episode 2 story-wise, he returns to Gotham in Episode 3. And love triangle? It's what everyone wants, but whether or not I can give one, that's up in the air right now****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: Yeah, I was tentative to introduce Gordon and Bullock at all, fearing that their inclusion might seem token or a case of the plot serving the show too much. Hopefully that isn't the case****

****Thanks! :)****


	29. Fun and Games

Chapter 29

Otis, Ed, and I walk the streets of Gotham, with Otis leading the way.

"There're these people who snatch children and throw them into their van," he explains, "then they bring them to a shipping warehouse on the bay. The kids are put in crates which go on ships."

"And how long has this been going on?" I ask.

"No idea, I just followed them when they snatched my brother and some of his friends."

"Why didn't they snatch you?"

He looks down, "I...I was still in the apartment, looking out the window. He was hanging on the complex steps with a couple of his friends when they came offering free food. They said they were with the mayor's homeless outreach, but we we're homeless. There must have been something in the sandwiches they gave, because he and his friends passed out on the ground. I ran down the stairs to help, but by the time I reached the front door...they were gone."

I nod understandably, "And you followed the van?"

"How could I not? My brother was in there but...but there was no way I could get him out alone. I was trying to get other kids from the Flea to join me but, none of them would come..." he stops in place, "we're here."

Ed and I look up and see a large, tall warehouse on the edge of the bay. Otis shows us to a nearby fire escape, which we climb to the roof of the building. As I jump up to reach the first rung on the ladder, Ed's directly under me. I look down and he's blushing for some reason. Then I realize I'm wearing a miniskirt.

I smirk, "You see something you like?"

"Just...mirid curiosity," he mumbles, shirting his eyes around with a nervous smile.

We make it to the roof, and Otis approaches the gap between the apartment roof and the slanted roof of the warehouse.

"Pardon me but...do you expect us to jump across that?" Ed questions the young boy.

The boy nods, "It's not that hard."

Ed takes a couple of steps back, placing his hands in front of him and closing one eye, "By my calculations, you'd need to have a velocity-"

I take off running toward the roof's edge, sprinting as fast as I can. I reach the end and jump up onto the ledge, leaping off of it. Flying through the air, I catch myself by my hands on the end of the roof. Hanging off of the edge, I swing my legs up and hoist myself up onto the roof.

"...like that," Ed concludes.

Otis goes next, copying my format of getting a running start, and then jumping at the end to reach the roof. We both look up and see Ed, still on the other side. He shakes his head, "Not possible."

"C'mon dude, it's a five foot jump!" Otis criticizes.

I back up and run back, jumping off of the warehouse roof and catch myself on the ledge of the apartment roof.

As I stand up, Ed twiddles with his fingers, shuffling his hands together, "Please, please...you bring me closer to a heart attack every time you do that."

"Well then, don't make me do it again. You can do this Ed," I tell him.

Otis is already continuing to a section of the roof where he opens up a hidden skylight and looks back, "If he doesn't want to come, that's fine. We can do it ourselves."

I scrunch my eyebrows. Could I? True, it would probably be safer for Ed if he just stayed outside, but, Otis came to us for help, not so that we could wimp out at the last second.

I back off, "Alright then, you stay."

Ed's eyes pop out in surprise, he knows I usually wouldn't let something like this slide so easily. But I'm not letting it slide.

I run back toward the warehouse, jumping off of the ledge and grabbing ahold of the thatches on the roof. One of my hands lets go of the roof, my other sliding to the edge and barely grasping the tip, as my legs dangle over the edge.

"AHH!" I yelp, as my other hand flails around trying to grab the roof.

Ed jerks his head up, "Natalie! Hang on!" he steps back, before bursting into a light jog, his feet awkwardly clopping along the concrete roof. He steps up onto the ledge and jumps, his tall body easily carrying him over to the warehouse. Landing with both feet on top, he runs over and grabs my free hand, allowing myself to use his weight to lift myself up.

The minute I'm up, I run into Ed's arms, holding him close, "Thank you."

He wraps his arms around me, pressing his head and nuzzling it into my forehead. I bury my face into his sternum and smile, I knew he could do it.

"Eww…" Otis groans in disgust.

* * *

><p>Through the skylight, we drop down into the dark warehouse, dimly lit by low hanging lights. There's dozens of shipping crates stacked up on top of each other, creating a maze-like configuration.<p>

"How are we suppose to know which one the kids are in?" I ask aloud.

Footsteps echo in the distance, and Otis, Ed, and I hide behind a set of crates, peering out from the spaces between the crates.

Three figures walk into view, a middle aged man and woman, plus Aaron. Otis points to the woman and man.

"Those're the guys that snatched my brother-"

I hush him up, but it's too late. The three turn around in our direction, and we distance ourselves from the space. I begin to draw one of my knives, preparing to attack.

The woman marches up to the crate separating us and them and bangs on the crate, prompting several cries, "What did I say about talking?!"

I breath a sigh of relief. She must've thought Otis's voice was someone from inside one of the crates.

"Yeah, shut up!" Aaron joins in, chuckling afterwards.

The woman turns around, "I don't know where you get all these kids from, but the least you could do is teach them some manners first."

He raises his arms in defense, "Hey, I just collect the punks."

"Well, you're certainly good at what you do," the man compliments, "the first shipment is leaving for the Dollmaker today."

Otis's eyes shoot open, and I know exactly what he's thinking. He thinks his brother is on that ship.

We wait for the group to leave before leaving our hiding spot. Following the direction of the bay, we find the loading dock, where a large cargo ship stands firm in the river.

Otis grabs the first rung of the rusty ship ladder and begins climbing. Ed and I follow the eager young boy as he scampers across the deck to the holding area for the ship. He starts wildly banging on the nearest crates, eliciting cries and yelps from the people inside.

"They're all inside the crates, is there any way you could get then open?" he asks us.

I take out my knife, brandishing it. Ed looks on in confusion, "Uhm...I don't exactly know if that's the most plausible option. Most knives can't exactly cut through steel-"

I take the padlock on the crate doors and saw my knife into it. After a few good minutes, the lock breaks and falls to the ground. I open the door to the sight of dozens of street kids crammed into a single cart, most of them having little room to even stand. They start pouring out of the crate, passing by me without so much as a second glance. I turn around and watch Otis search through the crowd, but as the last kids flow out of the crate, Otis stands by himself, his shoulders slumped and his head down. I walk up to him, placing my hand on his shoulder.

"There are several other crates on this ship. We'll find him," I reassure him, looking him in the eye.

"I don't think so," we turn around and stepping out from around the corner is a shot man in a light blue sweater vest over a white polo shirt. He wears a porcelain mask of a doll-like face, with large, soulless eyes, a wide, toothy grin, and pink circles drawn in the cheeks. Holding up a gloved hand, he waves, "Hello children. My name's Schott. I'm so excited to play with all of you."

The street kids step back, and I stand my ground, wielding my knife in front of me while Ed remains close behind. One of the kids suddenly yells out, "Are you the Dollmaker?"

Crossing his arms behind his back, the man shakes his head, "Nope, sorry sonny. But you'll get to see the Dollmaker soon," he turns his head to Ed and I, and claps his hands together, his voice sickeningly precise and pristine, "oh, fun! New friends! Oh...but, you...the man. You're too big, too tall for the Dollmaker's world."

Schott pulls a toy-like tommy gun out from behind his back, "So you'll have to go bye-bye!"

The street kids scream and scatter around the dock as he sprays bullets into the crowd. I throw myself at Ed, knocking us both to the ground. Bullets ride up towards us as Schott raises his gun. From my bag, I grab a marble and throw it toward him. It bounces off of his chest and dispels a thick mist. Not exactly what I'd hoped for, but it'll have to do.

When the mist clears, Schott stands in an empty dock. He cocks his gun, and shifts around but the area behind him is deserted as well.

"Now!" I cry.

Otis and I leap from uptop a shipping crate, landing on top of him and knocking him to the floor.

Now unconscious, I lift up his body and carry him to a nearby janitor's closet while Otis watches as Ed leads the street kids off of the boat.

Locking him in the closet, I return to Otis who is impatiently pulling at the latch of the next crate. I yank his hands away and cut into the lock with my knife. The lock falls, and upon opening the doors, more street kids start pouring out, rushing past me. Otis waits until the final child has left the crate.

"The...the next one...he must be in the next one," he assures himself.

Several crates later, we're down to the last one, at the edge of the ship's dock. I hack the lock off with a few fellow swoops, having become quite proficient at it. The doors fly open and another group of kids flood out. Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I whip around to reveal a frantic Ed.

"Two GCPD officers have arrived, and are facing off with the kidnappers. I did not catch a glimpse of them, but I'm certain they were GCPD. How should we proceed?"

I lean in to whisper, "They're going to think we're street kids as well with these clothes on. We should slip away from the group once all of the children are released."

"My thoughts exactly," he responds.

Otis gasps as a tall, thin teenager with numerous bruises and wounds stumbles out of the crate. He runs to the older boy, grabbing and hugging him.

"Big brother!" he cries.

The boy chuckles, looking down at Otis, "Hey there...you little rascal...what are you doing here?"

"I came to save you!" he declares proudly.

"No kidding…" the boy looks up, "did you help my brother here?"

I raise my hands up, smiling, "Hey, it was his idea. We were just following orders."

There's a loud bang, and we all duck.

"No one move a muscle," Aaron commands, holding up a pistol.

We remain on the ground, as Aaron waves his gun, "Get back inside the crate. All of you."

We begin backing up into the crate when Otis's brother comes charging at Aaron, grabbing both of his wrists. They struggle for control of the weapon, as they push each other to the edge of the deck. I run toward them to help when a gunshot rings out. Blood starts running from Otis's brother's chest, and with the last of his strength, he hurls himself and Aaron off of the deck, the both of them plunging into the water below.

"What happened?!" Otis cries, running up to the deck.

I stare down into the river. How could I tell this young boy that his own brother had just sacrificed himself? Police sirens begin blaring before I can contemplate this further.

"Hurry!" Ed shouts, gesturing for us to leave.

As we run off of the ship, past an open, empty janitor's closet, I can't help but see Otis quickly wipe away brimming tears. I don't need to explain to him what happened. He understands it perfectly well, he's seen it plenty of times before.

* * *

><p>Oswald walks the streets of Gotham, having just crossed the city limits a couple of blocks back. He's already in familiar territory. In one city scene alone, Oswald spots a common theft, a police officer dealing with a thug, another theft, and a hooker offering her services. The greed, corruption, blatant lack of morals...these are all integral parts of Gotham, it's what defines this city, what makes it so powerful. It's the organized crime capital of the world, it's a cesspool of debauchery and sleaze, it's…<p>

"Home."

****Author's Note: Team Oswald is in the lead! Just in time for his comeback! :)****

****SexyKnickers: Thanks, and yay for Team Oswald!****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: Yeah, I was worried it would be jarring since Natalie hasn't been in an action sequence in a while. And yes, Ed's skills lie more in his brains than in his fists. As for Oswald and Ed meeting in-show, I would suspect they could only be friends if Ed was already starting to go Riddler. Otherwise their outlooks on life are too different****

****Kizzi: Another one for Team Oswald!****

****Thanks!****


	30. You're Suppose to be Dead

Chapter 30

Oswald climbs the stairs of the apartment complex. He glances at the door of his own apartment. He and his mother ended their last conversation on a rather sour note, with him telling her off in a truly Shakespearean fashion.

He climbs the extra flight to the next floor up and knocks on Trixie's door. No response, she doesn't know he's alive, so she can't be avoiding him. She must be out. He gets his pocketknife and uses it to jimmy the lock on the door. The door clicks and slides open, revealing her apartment. He stumbles in, closing the door behind him. The room is almost as it was before he left, save a new set of white curtains covering the windows.

Oswald continues into her bedroom, which consists of a neatly made double bed and a small vanity. He crosses to her closet, pushing open the door. The closet is lined with her clothes, and her scent washes over him. He grabs an immediately recognizable piece off of its hanger. The green dress she'd worn when they'd first met. He holds it up and smells it, it smells just like her. He carries it out to her bedroom where he collapses onto her bed, clutching her dress. He closes his eyes and imagines them together in this very bed, lying together in each other's embrace, their only concern in that very moment to enjoy each other's company.

Someone begins unlocking the door, and Oswald shoves the dress into his shirt and walks out into the living room to meet her. He'll catch her by surprise, and when she least expects it, he'll stab her with his pocketknife. It'll be glorious, the blade entering her soft flesh…

He stands off to the side, where she won't immediately see. Drawing his knife, he lies in wait as the door slowly swings open.

"That was some great work today," she comments, as a second pair of footsteps accompanies her.

Oswald gasps, and scurries behind her curtains, his bum foot dragging behind him. He hadn't expected her to have company. Who was this mysterious stranger she's brought into her home?

"I just don't understand why Detective Gordon is so wary of you. You've more than proven your loyalty to the GCPD," a man's voice whiny, punctual voice replies, "I would actually think that you two would make excellent allies. Your morals are very similar."

She's working for the police? Did Fish put her up to this? Is this of her own doing? Or has she been working with the police from the beginning?

"I know he does, and that's the problem. If I was in his shoes I'd be wary of me too. Someone seemingly working for both sides is bound to not have their loyalties completely in check."

So she's having some sort of quarrel with James Gordon. Good, although now that she's working for the GCPD he'll need to keep a close eye on the both of them. If they started to work together it would be disastrous for him.

"Hang on a second...," Trixie walks up to the man, arching her chin up and she...kisses him? There's a quiet whisper between them as their faces connect, most likely sharing intimate words or dirty thoughts. Through the curtains, Oswald makes out the outline of the man. He's much taller than him, with a sharp suit. He scowls, she's replaced him? Who knew she could work so fast. He tilts his head and she touches it with her hand, it's absolutely disgusting. He impatiently rubs the handle of his knife, she'll pay, and her little boyfriend too.

* * *

><p>"There's someone hiding behind the curtain. They're probably after me, so I want you to leave the apartment as fast as you can and head home," I instruct Ed, whispering into his ear.<p>

Ed instinctively shifts his eyes toward the curtain but I grab his head and move it back, "Don't look now. Just leave. They probably thinks we're holding some kind of abnormally long kiss, any longer and they'll get suspicious."

He slowly nods, and places his hand on my shoulder, "Take care Natalie. Let no harm come to you," Ed walks out, carefully closing the door behind him.

I sit down on the couch, trying to act casual. What should I do about the person hiding behind the curtain? Who is this person anyway? I've turned my back to them, but they still haven't attacked. Is this perhaps a spy sent by Fish? By Essen? By Amanda?

I decide to give them an opportunity to leave, or at least find a better hiding spot than behind those curtains where their shoes stick out from the bottom. Keeping one hand on my knife, I open the door to my room and close it behind me.

I'm only in my room a couple of seconds when shuffling comes from the other side of the door. It sounds like someone is limping, like they have an injury. Either this intruder has a bum leg, or is just really clumsy.

More shuffling, what is this guy doing? I get away from the door, just in case they're going to try to attack me from there. But just then, there's the screeching of a record needle, and the soft spinning of vinyl as a song with a haunting piano melody begins. There's a soft knocking at my door, and I draw my knife, brandishing it in front of me.

"Honey, I'm home," Oswald's chilling, sarcastic voice announces.

I freeze in place. No, it can't be, he's dead, Fish had him offed, it's mob policy. He survived a bullet in the head and a trip down the river? Or maybe they killed him in a nontraditional way and he survived that. Either way, he's my problem now.

The handle slowly begins to turn, and I stash my knife away. There isn't enough time to run to the fire escape, and from what I've learned, Oswald isn't someone you can outrun. He's someone you deal with in the moment, hopefully as quickly as possible.

The door swings open, and a raggedy, pale Oswald stands in the doorway with a sinister smirk. He raises his arms, clad in an ugly light blue sweater and yellow polo, "Well, long time no see."

"You're alive."

He chuckles, looking toward the floor, hands in his pockets, "I have my ways," he looks up at me, "why aren't you happy? I'm alive, I'm back."

He slumps toward me, and I instinctively step back. He stops, frowning and gritting his nasty teeth, "I know you're the one who snitched. You work, not just for the government, but for the GCPD," he starts waddling closer, and backed against the wall, I have no where to run.

"Who was your little friend just then, hmm? Is he your real lover, your little beau?" he draws out his pocketknife, flipping open the blade and waving it in front of me as he leers mere inches away from me, "What would you do if I found out where he lives? If one day you'd come to his home and find him lying on the ground, throat slit?"

"I wouldn't let you," I snarl.

"Oh? You won't?" he challenges, hanging the knife at the nape of my neck.

I arch my neck as he lifts it up with his blade. He smells of beer and musty sewer water, and I bite my lip, trying my best to not gag. With his knife-wielding hand resting on my shoulder, he leans in and licks my neck, his tongue tracing the side of my neck. I shudder, clutching the wall with both hands.

"If you want your secrets to be kept private, and you and your boyfriend safe," he takes me into his arms, and I get the full brunt of his stench, "you'll do exactly as I say."

"...a bath," I cough.

He looks down at me, "What?"

"You need...a bath," I gag.

He smirks, and kisses me on the forehead, "So I do. How about you give me one then?"

****Author's Note: I'm getting this out of the way now, but finals is in two weeks for me and I may be late on updates due to this. Once winter break starts, you'll bet I'll be back on top of things. Also, Gotham is officially back on January 5th! Mark your calendars!****

****Song on the record Oswald plays: "Midnight, the Stars, and You" by Al Bowlly****

****GibbyCentral: Yes, Team Edward!****

****TotalDiva: Go Team Oswald! I'm still counting votes and Team Oswald is in the lead!****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: You're right, things have definitely hit the fan, what with Oswald back. And Ed is super shy...for now****

****UndercoverSkeleton: Don't worry, this isn't the last we've seen of Otis (hint, hint, everyone given a name in the last chapter are existing DC characters), and yes, Nat and Ed make a good team, the classic brains and brawn combination****

****Thanks! :)****


	31. A Deal With the Devil

Chapter 31

"Isn't this nice?" Oswald asks, as he splashes water against my back.

I sink my naked body deeper into the water. Luckily Gotham's tap water is so dirty the water is an opaque white, obscuring our bodies from view.

"You know, for a moment I thought we had something special," he begins, rubbing my back with his large hands, "you were the nicest person I'd ever met. To be fair, you still are," massaging my shoulders, he pulls me toward him.

I glance to my side and see his pocket knife, lying on the stand by the bathtub, just out of his arm's reach. He takes my chin in his hand, and pulls it to face him, "But perhaps, you're also the cruelest person I've ever met. You gained my trust, and then you betrayed me."

"I never had your trust to begin with," I accuse.

He pulls me closer toward him and my stomach brushes up against something...

"That better be your arm," I threaten.

He pulls both of his arms out of the water and gives a knowing smirk. I grimace, this is highly unsanitary, with or without the dirty Gotham waters.

"Do me now," he murmurs, turning around.

I grab the soap bar and start rubbing it on his back.

"No...use your hands," he commands tilting his head around and placing my hand on his.

I put away the soap, and with my hands, I begin massaging his lower back. He arches his back and opens his mouth, closing his eyes. Is he...getting off to this?

He suddenly grabs my arms and pushes me down with his entire back, plunging me into the water. My legs and stomach are crushed by his weight and his head digs into my neck. He's trying to drown me...how quaint. Luckily I can hold my breath for at least two minutes, but when he wrenched me underwater it knocked a lot of air out of me. I lie as still as possible, trying to save my breath while looking for a way out. There's a muffled sound coming from the surface. Oswald's saying something, although I have no idea what. Perhaps he's quoting Shakespeare, or maybe Virgil, or both, who knows?

I slowly begin to wiggle my arms free from his oppressive force. My elbow is just out of his grasp when he reacts, scrambling to push me back down. I use his panic to slip to the side of the tub, and with both arms, pull him down into the water as I resubmerge. Gasping for breath and pulling wet hair out of my face, I hold him down in the water with my elbow and upper body weight. I could kill him right now, it would be so easy. But...something's telling me not to, maybe it's just my conscience, or maybe…

At the last second, I yank him out of the water. He gargles water before spitting it out, wheezing down toward the tub.

"That's what you get for trying to kill me," I warn him, crossing my arms as I grab a nearby towel and step out of the tub.

I turn around as I quickly wrap the towel around me. Oswald stares at me, dumbfounded, "You're not...going to kill me."

"Why, do you want me to?" I ask threateningly.

He shakes his head rapidly, flicking droplets of water off of his soaked hair.

"Get dressed and get out of here," I instruct coldly, gesturing toward the door.

"But...I have no where else to go," he pleads, grabbing the one leftover towel and stepping out of the tub.

I turn to him, sneering, "Tough luck."

* * *

><p>Oswald's dressed in those awful clothes by the time I return to the bathroom.<p>

"Why not just go back home to your mother?"

He chuckles, "She and I had a bit of a...falling out."

"Couldn't be that bad, she loves you," I counter, leaning against the wall.

He shakes his head, "You don't understand, it was bad."

I twist my lips, looking off to the side, "Are you really fearful of your mother, or are you just looking for an excuse to stay here?"

"I can be very valuable to you," Oswald detracts, approaching me, "in more ways than one...if you prefer."

He sees my back arching up against the wall and stops, smiling, "You can physically overpower me, and yet you still fear me. I love it."

Oswald inches closer, his left foot dragging across the floor. I look down and see a set of nasty scars where Fish had attacked him. He's mere centimeters away, breathing directly onto me, his breath smelling of tuna. Nothing new there.

He takes my chin and brings it to face him, "I need you...and you need me, you'll come to see this in time," he leans in and kisses me on the cheek, "you crave it too, don't you?"

I arch an eyebrow in surprise, "Crave what?"

"Don't play dumb with me," he takes his arms and wraps them around me, pressing his cheek against mine, "you crave the attention I provide, how I put you up on a pedestal and call you 'friend'."

Oswald tilts his head so he can whisper into my ear, "And tell me, when's the last time anyone's ever held you like this?"

"Never," I mutter under my breath. Why am I telling him the truth? I glance over my shoulder and see that his pocketknife is still on the end table by the tub. He wants my trust, or more so, he wants a place to crash.

"I know you want these things because I want them too. I know what it feels like, to long for someone's touch, to be accepted as...someone, someone of importance in another's life," with one hand, he slides it down from my waist up to my shoulder, and down my arm, "for years all I could do was wish and wait for someone, somewhere, where a warm hand waits for mine."

He takes my hand and kisses it, "I think I've found that hand."

I try my best to control my breathing, but I'm honestly touched by his speech. I take his other hand, and my heart races as he blushes. We lean in and kiss on the lips, becoming entangled in each other's arms. I release myself and run my hand through his hair, "Your hair isn't usually this...flat."

Oswald beams in embarrassment, "Mom usually does it for me."

"You could try doing it yourself you know."

He walks over to the sink mirror, and holds up a jar of hair gel, "Can I borrow this?"

I nod, and he opens the jar and takes out a generous scoop with his index and middle fingers, "So, there's been a slight change in plans," he announces as he fusses with his hair in the mirror.

"What do you mean?"

He smirks, "I've made a deal with Don Falcone himself. I'm to invade the ranks of his rival Don Maroni and serve as his mole."

"Really? Well, someone's moving up in the world," I grin.

"Certainly. And once I can get close to the both of them...I'll rot them both out from the inside," he chuckles gleefully as he finishes with his hair, "what do you think?"

I look up at his new hairdo. He's gone a little overboard with the hair gel, his bangs now individually parted in clumps across his forehead. Several parts also stick up in an avian-like fashion.

"It's…very...you," I conclude, giving a soft smile.

"You don't like it," he slumps his shoulders in disappointment.

"No, no, I'm just...getting use to it," I explain, walking over to him, "it's new, and unique...like you."

He blushes as I wrap my arms around his shoulders, "So, you'll keep me in the know about what's going on with Fish and Falcone, and I'll keep on the lookout for more candidates for you to mark."

I try my best to not frown, the last thing I need is to get involved with this man again. He can be charming, funny, and kind but...he's also a psychotic bastard. But, he's also shown that he has some incredible insecurities, maybe, maybe if I could tap into the root of his problems, I could lead him to resolve them. And then he could move on from this life and become a normal, functioning member of society. And then...maybe, just maybe, we could actually have something together.

"Alright," I agree, kissing him on the cheek.

* * *

><p>A dark room is illuminated by a single hanging light in the center. Schott stands under that light, the expression on his doll mask just as smiley and stoic as ever.<p>

"You've failed me, Winslow," a voice booms from the darkness.

"I-I'm so sorry Mr. Dollmaker sir. I had the children on the ship, but three big bad meanies came in and spoiled all of our fun!" Schott pleads, "Plus the stupid police came and arrested Patty and Doug, we'll have to start all over again-"

"Silence!" the man slams his fist onto the table and Schott shies back. The Dollmaker relaxes his fist, as well as his voice, "Schott, why aren't you bringing me more subjects? You do want friends, don't you?"

"Yes, yes, Mr. Dollmaker, in fact, I brought a new friend for both of us to play with," he claps his hands and a metal table on wheels rolls into the light, revealing a sobbing and struggling Aaron strapped to it.

"You told me you had two friends Winslow. Is this the thanks I get, for taking you in after your father died?"

"I had two friends, but the other one was too damaged. I had to dispose of him," Schott explains in a morbidly happy tone.

"Such a waste...oh well, guess we'll have to make do with just the one," the Dollmaker sighs, stepping out of the shadows as Aaron screams into the night.

****Author's Notes: ****

****jasper-jordan: I'll just reply to both of your reviews here (thanks for both of them!). Jack might be the Joker...or he could just be a comedian named Jack, either way, we'll be seeing more of him. And another point for Team Oswald! You guys are the ones keeping Team Oswald in the lead, as the Wattpad guys are at a stalemate****

****Molojelly: Awe, thanks. And more Team Oswald!****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: Haha, lol, I prefer Oswald in the suits personally. But now that he's back in the picture things are going to get intense, and maybe a little off the wall too ;)****

****Lola93091: No, the bathtub scene is for everyone :) Also, I'm not going to start making anything for AO3 until winter break, which is in two weeks. And didn't he already threaten her to do his bidding in the last chapter?****

****Thanks! :)****


	32. Something Fishy

Chapter 32

I walk into work as if it were any other day, the warmth of Oswald's hands still lingering on my shoulders. Fish sits at her usual table while her boys set up the chairs. Jack stands in front of her as she sips a tall glass of wine.

"So, you'll be able to do Monday _and _Wednesday nights, correct?" she asks him, looking up from her seat.

"Yes Ms. Mooney...anything for you," he replies.

She turns around as my heels make noise across the hardwood floor, "Ah, Trixie, good evening," she gets up and places her arm around him, "Jack's been such a success for the club that I'm having him work an extra night."

"That's wonderful," I smile vaguely.

"Say, do either of you know a strapping young man in need of work?" she asks suggestively, but her smile quickly turns into a frown as she continues, "I've been looking for a replacement for Oswald, but so far I haven't had any luck."

"I know someone, a friend of mine, actually," Jack raises his hand, "his name's Timothy, we're in the boy's choir together."

Fish smirks, "Bring him in tomorrow night. And I didn't know you could sing, Jack."

"Well, comedy's more my thing, but I can sing too," he explains.

"Oh really? Well, maybe one of these days you could come up onstage and sing with the girls," she suggests, smiling.

I continue to the employee hallway where Morgan is leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette.

"How are you holding up?" I ask him.

He stares up at the ceiling, "Been better. Amanda finally accepted my request for a transfer."

"Transfer? To where?"

"Falcone's casino downtown. Not exactly sure what my assignment is yet, but whatever it is it's got to be better than here."

I raise an eyebrow, "Why transfer? I got rid of Oswald, you don't have to worry about him anymore."

"But there's still that num-nut Butch," he points out, "and there's bound to be more like him coming around the bend. Besides, my job here is done, you have your list of candidates I got from Mooney's office, you track them down."

I slowly begin to nod, "Alright."

I sneer as I walk into the dressing room. Guess this means I'm on my own now. Oh well, he wasn't of much use to begin with anyway.

For the final show of the night I'm dressed in a pink one-piece that barely covers anything, snaking around my necessities and completed with neon pink thigh high boots and matching wrist tag reads: "Star Sapphires of Love". Must be a fetish thing.

I walk out to the backstage area where the other girls wait for their cue. I spot Ann, and I smile, and she nudges my shoulder to whisper.

"Word's been going around that Mooney's hiring a new girl."

"Really? The small stage can barely hold us as it is."

"No, not a dancer," she clarifies, "she's been asking the girls to sing first, and then she asks them to seduce her. She must be looking for someone for a special act."

I raise an eyebrow, "What kind of girl is she looking for? And why couldn't she just use one of us?"

Ann leans in closer as to be discreet, "From what I've seen, the girls she's been seeing...are young."

I swallow, I knew Fish was dirty, but I had no idea she consented to using young girls. True, several years ago, I would've been considered a "young girl" myself, and I might've been desperate enough to sign up as a singer at a local bar, with maybe some sexual favors on the side. Luckily, I had Ed to keep me firmly planted on the ground, most other girls, not as lucky.

We all step out to the stage as the music begins. We start by kicking our legs in a single file line. Standing toward the end of the line, I can safely let my eyes wander to Fish's table. A bruised Lazlo in an arm cast walks over and pours a glass of wine for Fish. What happened to him? Granted I didn't know Lazlo very well but he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who gets into fights. Must be work related.

The dance ends and the girls and I walk backstage as the waiters close the restaurant for the night. As soon as we're backstage, an eager blond young girl in a tight red dress hobbles up to me in a pair of chunky heels.

"Hi, uhm, do you know where I can find the auditions? Am...am I too early?"

I turn around, and she seems shocked by my bare-all outfit. She must be new.

"Well, the boys are still clearing up the stage, so you might have to wait a few minutes."

"Great," the girl smiles in place, and as I'm about to turn around, she jolts out her hand, "Nora."

With an awkward smile, I politely shake her hand.

"Have you been a dancer here long?" she asks me.

I shrug, "I've been here a while, but I'm still the newest member."

She nods, "I'm studying to be a ballerina, but for now I just need the cash."

I smile knowingly. I remember those days.

Fish walks out from the hallway door, "Are any of the new girls here?"

Nora raises her hand, "Here!"

Fish gives her the up-down , one hand on her hip, "Good...I'll see you now. Come dear."

They leave for the restaurant area while we continue to change. I change as fast as I can and am the first one to leave the dressing room. I want to get home as fast as I can. God knows, Oswald could be there right now, I've already counted at least two of my dresses missing-

"Hey," a girl with dark hair and heavy eyeliner stops me.

She has a low, sultry stare, and while somewhat younger, is a lot taller than me.

"I'm looking for the...auditions," she states, shifting from one knee to the other and looking toward the ground.

"Oh, well, Ms. Mooney is currently seeing another girl, but I'm sure she'll take you right after," I tell her.

"...cool," she mumbles, her lashes fluttering unintentionally.

She sits down in my makeup chair, admiring herself in the mirror, "How many shows do you guys do a night?"

I raise an eyebrow, but quickly smile. She clearly knows more about the business than the first girl, even if she does have a bit of an attitude. From the way she composes herself, to how she helped herself to my dressing table, there's no doubt. This kid is from is from the streets, possibly someone I'd see at the Flea when I was young.

"Depends on what's going on that night. Anywhere from seven to nine numbers, two to four minutes, one per hour."

She smirks, "You guys ever strip?"

I chuckle, picking up on her strange sense of humor, "Only if the customers tip well."

We both laugh quietly before the girl speaks up, "You're alright, what's your name?"

"Trixie, what about you?"

"Liza."

Mooney walks back with Nora, "We'll be in touch dear," she spots Liza, "you, you're next. Come along, I haven't got all day."

Liza gets up from my chair and waves, "See you around."

****Author's Note:****

****jasper-jordan: It's cool for the mistake, although I was a little confused at first (Natalie's a guy? Well, if that's your interpretation). And it's good that you feel torn over Oswald and Natalie's relationship, that's exactly how I want the readers to feel. I was worried during the earlier chapters when the readers were all for them getting together, but it's good that some people are starting to see my view on things! :)****

****UndercoverSkeleton: Thanks! The bathtub scene was obviously at least partially inspired by the bathtub scene from Episode 6 (when I first saw that scene I yelled "fanservice!" at the screen before my dad changed the channel, stating I was too young to be watching a scene like that)****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: Wait...the bathtub scene wasn't creepy? I think almost every scene Oswald is in is creepy, in and out of the story. Also, don't think that these two have "completely moved" past trying to kill one another, they've just tabled that topic for now ;) And yes, Oswald is conscious about his hairstyle, and I create an origin story for that slightly ridiculous hipster haircut he sports after Episode 3****

****Thanks! :)****


	33. God's Love Gotham

Chapter 33

I return home to find Oswald sitting on my living room couch, his legs spread slightly apart and his hands folded in his lap. He holds up a set of white kitchen worker's clothes.

"Could you be a dear and clean these for me?"

I cross my arms, "I'm not your maid, Oswald."

He pouts, "I know, but I've never been good at cleaning stains," he drops the set, revealing deep, dark blood stains marking up the pristine white cloth.

"Oh don't worry, I've already taken care of the body," he assures me.

He also scoots a pair of bloodied shoes from under the coffee table to complete the laundry work he's presenting me with. Pressing my index finger against my lips, I sigh, and smile, "Alright, but you have to do something for me."

"What?"

* * *

><p>"This…? Why...why?!" Oswald protests as we walk up to a tall warehouse.<p>

"You'll see why," I assure him.

There's a long line in front of the warehouse as we pass the front doors. A woman at the front greets us.

"Natalie, it's been forever, I was wondering if you'd ever show up here again. And who's this? Should I set up a private table for two-"

I smile, "No Ms. Thompkins, we're here to clock in some volunteer hours."

"Oh, that's wonderful! I'll set you two up in the kitchen," Ms. Thompkins leans in and whispers, "by the way, I liked the tall boy better. This one looks like he hasn't been getting any sleep."

I glance over at Oswald, who just seems to be staring off into space. When was the last time this guy has gotten a good night's sleep?

I take Oswald's hand, "C'mon, we're going now."

"Why are we volunteering at a soup kitchen? Have you gone insane?"

"I use to come here all the time as a kid," I explain.

He raises an eyebrow, "Yeah, but you don't need the assistance anymore. So, why come back?"

I stop and squeeze his hand, "I just feel like you need to see this place. Haven't you ever worked at a soup kitchen before?"

He shakes his head, and I smirk, "Don't knock it till you've tried it."

Ms. Thompkins leads us to the kitchen area, where several other volunteers are already working. After giving us hairnets and smocks she puts us to work bringing food out to the dining room.

"I still don't see the purpose behind this," Oswald protests as we bring out our first batch of trays.

I pull him to the side, "Look around. What do you see?"

The dining area is lined with long metal tables where countless men, women, and children are huddled or walking around with trays. They all wear the same dark, dingy, heavy clothing, their faces dirty and their heads bowed down.

"I see a bunch of crooks and thieves looking for a free meal," Oswald observes snidely.

I roll my eyes, "Says the guy who eats seemingly nothing but government tuna."

He scrunches his brow, and I smile at my small victory.

I set out the trays at the serving stations with Oswald. As we work, I take brief glances at him. I know that having him serve at a soup kitchen won't change him into an honest man, but it's a start.

We fill the trays with food and pass them out to the incoming guests. I notice a family of three come by and take the trays, one of them being a young boy. Oswald rudely shoves a tray at the boy, and I give him a dirty look. The boy just beams at him, "Thank you sir."

"Of course," Oswald grumbles back, his tone annoyed.

But as the small boy walks away with his family, Oswald watches as he happily rejoins his parents at one of the tables.

"Food for the kids at the Flea! Food and clothes please!" two teenaged boys cry out, holding out small bags as people drop small food items and token articles of clothing into them.

As the last trays are cleared off, I place my hand on his shoulder, "Not bad for your first round of customers," I compliment him.

"You are going to make this worth my while, right?" he asks, brushing his cheek against my hand.

My head jerks up as there's shouting sounds coming from the corner of the dining room. The young boy from before is surrounded by two older boys. The small boy cowers in the corner, holding a large apple in his hands.

"Just hand over the apple kid, you already had plenty of food," one of the older boys negotiates.

"Yeah, it's for a good cause," the other one chimes in.

The young boy holds the apple tighter to his chest, "Leave me alone!"

Before I can react, Oswald steps ahead of me and approaches them, "Hey kids, if he says he doesn't want to give up the apple, he doesn't want to give up the apple."

The two teenagers, while both around Oswald's height and perfectly able to take him on, begin to back up, "Okay...it's cool man, we'll leave the kid alone."

With one hand behind his back, Oswald flips out his pocketknife, "No, I think you boys need to learn a lesson."

"Oswald!" I cry, marching over toward him.

He turns his head around just in time for me to yank the knife from his hands and stuff it into my pocket, the entire transaction happening out of the boys' sight.

"The kitchen says you guys can help yourselves to extra servings in the kitchen," I tell the two teenagers.

"Thanks lady!" they call out as they scurry to the kitchen.

Oswald carefully approaches the young boy, still huddled in the corner. He gets down on one knee, "Are you okay?"

The boy slowly nods, and Oswald clears his throat and bows his head slightly, leveling with the boy, "If you want something, let no one bully you out of it. You do whatever it takes to get what you want, and keep it too. You understand?"

"Y-yes sir," the boy nods.

Oswald smiles, before rustling the boy's hair and standing, "Alright, run alone then."

The boy runs off to rejoin his family. Oswald slowly turns around to face me.

"May I have my knife back?"

While I'm touched by what he did for the boy, it still doesn't excuse what he was planning to do.

"No. You just tried to kill two kids," I whisper among the murmur of the dining area.

He glowers, his eyes becoming dark with anger, "People like those boys never learn. They'll just find new victims, others to lord over and abuse."

"They had good intentions, and it's not like they were going to hurt him," I defend, remembering the times I walked around asking for food for the guys at the Flea.

"They're bullies, just like the rest of them! The only way to fully silence them is with death!" Oswald shouts at the top of his lungs.

The dining area becomes silent as all eyes turn to us. I groan in annoyance, and grabbing Oswald's arm, pull him back to the kitchen.

"How about a wager?" I propose, "You don't kill anyone for a week, and I-" I stop as I realize I have nothing to offer him.

A devilish smile spreads across his pale skin as he wraps his arm around my hip, "You'll what?"

"What do you want?" it was a legitimate question, but I fear the answer.

"Don't play coy with me. You know what I want."

Could I make this bet? I mean, knowing him, he's probably going to break his promise at some point. The disappoint from his failure will be a wake up call to his problems.

"Alright then, it's a deal," I conclude, resting my head on his shoulder, "and I'm keeping the knife."

He takes my hand and kisses it, "Oh, please do. It'll be worth it."

****Author's Note: Consider this the PSA chapter. I encourage you donate to a local food kitchen, or volunteer yourself. You could follow the example of Robin Lord Taylor and donate/volunteer at God's Love We Deliver in Brooklyn. Or if you're in the San Francisco area, St. Anthony's Foundation is where my school sends students to volunteer every year. Personally, I performed with my school string ensemble at the First Baptist Church's dinner service, and I'm performing an outreach concert with the school's women's ensemble this afternoon. Whatever time of year it may be when you're reading this, consider giving back a little, however you can****

****jasper-jordan: I agree, the chapter might have seemed odd on the outset, hopefully I can clarify their intentions in later chapters. The short version is: they're both trying to "fix" each other (and yes, I'm going to be taking this tired cliche in some interesting directions). Oswald's trying to make her see his Machiavellian view on the world, while Natalie is trying to put Oswald on the straight and narrow. As for romance between Natalie and Ed, just wait, something's coming. And on the question of whether Natalie is psychotic, may I quote Norman Bates, "we all go a little mad sometimes". As for Jack, at this point I can only react to what the show does with him (if anything at all, we haven't seen him since the pilot, I don't even know if his name is Jack), but he'll still play a part nonetheless****

****Dreamcatcher97: Thanks, I don't usually comment on fanfictions either (a bad habit I'm trying to break out of). And you read it all in one go? I'm curious as to how long that took. Hope you enjoy this next chapter!****

****The Beatles Babydoll22: Thanks, but I'm keeping my OCs limited to Natalie,her boss Simon, and the drugged out manager. And I've been meaning to get into Sons of Anarchy, but it's hard enough keeping up with Gotham, and I need to catch up with the Flash for a crossover I may-or-may-not be planning. One last thing, I love your username, my dad raised me on the Beatles ****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: Oh, Liza will be tying in, but how much depends on how far they go with her on the show, of course. And Ed's coming back, but I still can't pull off them completely meeting yet, I'll leave that to the show****

****Thanks! :)****


	34. Appointment in Central City

Chapter 34

I chuckle as Oswald and I leave the soup kitchen.

"You know, I never realized how good you are with kids," I comment.

"There's a part of them I can still relate to, I feel," he responds, looking up at the pitch gray sky.

We pass a pay phone booth and I stop in my tracks. Is the phone...ringing?

"Hang on, I've got to check this," I tell Oswald, approaching the phone booth.

Closing the booth door behind me, I carefully pick up the phone and hold it to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Natalie, it's Amanda, I've tracked you to your location. This call is urgent, is anyone else around you?"

Just outside the plastic glass of the phone booth, Oswald stares straight faced directly at me, his eyes sunken in and unblinking. I turn away from him.

"Cobblepot's just outside the door, but I don't think he can hear us."

"You better hope he can't," she threatens.

"You're the one calling me in the middle of the day via a public phone booth," I remind her.

"Natalie, I need you to meet with an informant in Central City. He has some valuable tech that I need you to retrieve for me."

I roll my eyes, "Don't you have other agents for this kind of thing?"

"The feds are pulling back my funding, and besides, I intend on giving some of the tech to you," she explains, "I want you to head out first thing tomorrow."

I sigh, of course she's adding to my workload at the last minute, and on a weekend too.

"Fine, but could you do something for me? Could you keep an eye on Oswald Cobblepot? Report anything suspicious, especially if he's involved in any murders."

"Alright, although I have to ask why you want to keep such a close eye on your lackey."

I turn around and see that Oswald is still standing exactly where he was a minute ago, a malicious smile creased across his lips.

"Let's just say we have a deal worked out."

After Amanda debriefs me of my mission, I hang up the phone and exit the booth, where Oswald links our arms as we continue walking.

"What did Amanda want?" Oswald asks.

"I'm going to have to leave town for a day or two," I explain, "business."

He squeezes my arm tightly, "Why so sudden? Don't you like being here?"

"Of course I do but-" I stop myself. Do I like being here? True, it's nice to be semi-out of retirement, or at least leading a somewhat interesting life post CIA but, do I like it?

Instead of legitimately questioning myself, I take his chin into my hand, turning his head to face me, "As long as you're around, I'm as happy as can be."

Direct flattery is not my usual style, but if I want Oswald to start changing his ways, he's going to want something in return.

He dives in and kisses me briefly on the lips before we continue walking along the deserted street, arm in arm.

* * *

><p>We walk down the street to our apartment complex when a familiar voice calls out.<p>

"Trixie! Hello!" it's Mrs. Cobblepot, walking up from the other side of the street carrying a wicker basket.

I turn around and Oswald has completely vanished, and I blink several times, blindly staring at the space where he was just seconds ago.

"Be a dear and help an old woman out, would you?" she asks, totally unaware her son was just standing beside me.

I nod, "Of course," I take the basket off of her hands as she removes the large, faded sunhat from her head, revealing a mass of gray and white curls underneath.

"My son, he still has not come home to me. Do, do you know where he is? Have you heard from him?" she asks with a pleading tone.

"No Mrs. Kabelput, I haven't," I lied.

She touches my shoulder with her hand as we ascend the stairs, "Do not fret child, he always comes home to his mother. I remember, when he was just but a strapping young boy, he ran away. Oh! What a terrible thing. I was worried sick for days."

"Really? That doesn't sound like the Oswald I know. He always seemed very devoted to you."

"Of course he is, but he is also young, and very ambitious. Such ideas he has! Even as a man, his head is always full of ideas."

We reach her apartment, and she unlocks the door and gestures for me to come in. I set her basket down on the coffee table and take a seat in one of the couches. She opens the basket and reveals that it's full of green apples.

"I'll save these for later. You see, I'm going to try my hand at making an apple pie. As, as soon as I can get all the ingredients of course. But those prices, always rising," she sighs, as she takes the basket and places it on the kitchen counter, "but I say, why not try anyway? Apple pie is so very...American."

Personally, I'm more partial to gooseberry pie myself. There use to be a bunch of wild gooseberry bushes on the reservation, we'd pick them and then cook them into pies to eat over the winter season. I remember running down the grassy hill to the houses, carrying a big basket full of them, and how mom was so proud I'd gotten them all by myself…

"Trixie, are you listening?!" Mrs. Cobblepot snaps me out of my daydream.

"Oh...oh uhm, my apologies Mrs. Kabelput, I was caught up in a fond memory," I excuse myself, shrinking my head past my shoulders in embarrassment.

She tsks playfully, "You're too young to be wandering off into the past like that."

I chuckle, but suddenly, something on the coffee table catches my eye. A small, dainty snow globe of the Sydney Opera House. That wasn't there before.

"Where did you find this?" I ask her, pointing to the object.

She turns around and gasps, "Oh, I must have forgotten to put that away earlier," she shuffles over to the coffee table where she picks up the snow globe, "this was always Ozzy's favorite toy as a child. His fath-...it was a gift."

Her long fingernails encase the glass shell of the snow globe as she brings it to my face. As I get a closer look at the snow globe, I realize that the Sydney Opera House miniature inside has been mis-colored, painted a light blue instead of the usual white. The sharp points in the architecture plus the irregular color made the tiny figurine look less like the Sydney Opera House and more like ice.

Suddenly, there's a banging coming from directly upstairs, sending some dust falling down to the floor.

"Is that coming from your apartment?" Mrs. Cobblepot asks.

I look up, Oswald must be getting antsy, he's not one for patience, is he?

"I completely forgot. I...I'm expecting company. Guess they just let themselves in," I cross to the door and glance back briefly, smiling, "good day Mrs. Kabelput."

"Farewell for now, dear," she smiles spryly as I close the door.

****Author's Note: ****

****jasper-jordan: Yes she bet what you think she bet ;)****

****Overlord Goddess: Thanks! I try to get it right, but often times I find myself rereading old chapters and cringing at the stuff I've written (especially the first four or so chapters, which were written before the show even came out). Oswald's just a hard guy to pin down, and often I end up making him sound too much like his Batman: the Animated Series incarnation****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: To be honest, I don't think she knows what she's doing, and it might come back to bite her in the rear. As for how motivated Oswald is to win, we'll be seeing more of his perspective while Natalie is galavanting in Central City. Also keep in mind when this takes place (Episode 3) and Oswald's actions during that time in the show****

****Emily: Hey, good to see you again! And hopefully I won't disappoint on how this bet will play out :)****

****Thanks! :)****


	35. A Bet Worth Making

Chapter 35

I open the door of my apartment to find Oswald putting on one of my records, his back turned to me. I can't help but smile as I slowly walk toward him, psychopath or not, he's a man of impeccable taste.

"Where did you find these records?" he asks, setting the needle on the record.

"Your mother gave them to me. While you were...away," I explain.

He turns to me, his eyes wide and long lashes giving him a slightly youthful appearance, "I notice you share many similar traits to Mom."

He looks down, folding his hands as he chuckles quietly to himself, "You're both so caring and kind-"

"If this is a ploy to make me do good on my end of the bargain, you're not fooling anyone," I interrupt him, raising my hand to gesture.

He smirks, his smile growing steadily wider, "Oh, no trickery here, and have I ever lied to you?"

I think back through the short time we've known each other, has he ever lied to me?

"Not directly, but a lie of omission is still a lie," I point out.

He laughs through his closed lips, shrugging his shoulders, "Oh Trixie, are you really going to linger on a little technicality like that?"

Closing the space between us, he wraps his arms around my waist, "No matter what happened before, all that matters now is that we're together," his hands wander down lower than they should, "together, in a loving relationship."

Oh...that's what he was after, "Who said this is a relationship?"

"Who says it isn't?"

We kiss, Oswald shuffling his feet so that his body is touching mine. We let go, and I smile.

"That was very sweet Oswald...now give the knife back."

He sighs, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the knife. I place the knife in the back pocket of my jeans. Oswald glances at the dining room table, where several envelopes lie.

"I've been reading some of your letters," he confesses, keeping one arm wrapped around me.

I raise an eyebrow, "You do know reading other peoples' mail is illegal, right?"

"You left them out on the table, I saw it as an open invitation," he reasons, "so...Ed, your friend from school, correct?"

I nod, "Yes. He and I have resumed exchanging letters."

He leads me to the couch, where we sit down, "And is this also the man who was with you in your apartment the day I returned? _And _I'm also to assume that he works with you at the GCPD?"

"This is not the Spanish Inquisition, Oswald. Yes, I have contacts, why is that such a shock to you?" I counter.

"Speaking of the GCPD, I better write Ed a letter telling him that I'm going to be out of town," I get up, Oswald grasping out for a second.

"Hopefully the letter gets to him before Monday...maybe if I can send it before six tonight…" I think aloud, although I soon realize that's a dangerous thing to do around Oswald.

"What are you going to do on your little vacation?" he asks.

"None of your business," I chastise as I begin opening a drawer for some supplies.

"Everything is my business," he claims, getting up from his seat, "information is power."

I roll my eyes, "And how would this useless piece of information be of any significance to you?"

Oswald laces his arms around my shoulders from behind, "Well, it's possible that you could get into some kind of trouble. I could come to your aid-"

"You? Come to my aid? Right Prince Charming, keep dreaming," I snap back, pulling his arms off of me and sit down to write my letter.

He grimaces, and stiffens his stance, "Fine. But in one week's time, when I've proven myself to you...you'll see, oh, you'll see…"

I swivel around in my chair, crossing my legs, "This bet...has two outcomes. One, you break it and I get you to admit to yourself that you have a major problem. Or, you can skip that step and make good on your promise," I smile sarcastically. "Then...well, then there's hope for you yet."

Oswald presses his fingers against his lips, his arms going into a thinking pose, "Oh...alright. But let's say I fulfill my promise. Would you be willing to uphold your end of the bargain?"

Would I? Although I don't exactly hold my sexuality in high regard, the prospect still scares me. Not to mention I'm heavily relying on him failing the bet, and if he somehow does pull through there's always the nonspecificity clause so…

"Of course," I smile brightly.

He chuckles, "Don't give me that look," he places his hands on my shoulders, slowly massaging them back and forth, "you will make good on your end of our bargain, if not willingly, then you will yield to my desire."

"...are you really suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" I scrunch my eyebrows. "You do realize that I could cancel this bet anytime I want, right? Especially if I feel that my integrity is being compromised."

He crosses his arms, his eyes leering at me in the form of little slits. I sigh, and getting out of my seat, I run my hand through his gelled hair, slightly messing up his half emo, half hipster style. His hostile glare instantly melts away as he wraps his arms around me. I lean against his chest while he strokes my hair. For a moment, I forget that he's a power-hungry killer looking to climb the ranks of organized crime. Perhaps this is wishful thinking, a pipe dream maybe but...it's hard not to give up hope. If only he could be on the other side of the law, they could have something.

"I love you," he whispers.

I tilt my head to the side, "...I love you too."

He kisses me one last time on the forehead before backing off, "Have fun on your trip."

I smile and wave as he carefully shuts the door. The moment the door closes I check my back pockets. The knife's gone. Damnit.

* * *

><p>The drive down to Central City was painless enough. It's a miracle Amanda could get her hands on a car with a full tank of gas what with the shortage going on. Hopefully the one tank will last. Having never been to Central City before, I don't quite know exactly how far it is from Gotham, and the map I picked up at the travel agency isn't helping much in that department either. It's close enough to not warrant a plane ticket, but maybe Amanda's just being cheap. Well, at least the sun's actually out, that must mean I'm heading in the right direction.<p>

"Thanks for finally allowing me a cell phone Amanda," I thank her from a small outlet mall just off of the highway where I picked up the phone.

"You're in much cooler waters now Natalie. Considering that, I do need you to dispose of the phone upon returning to Gotham."

"Of course," I reply.

"Now, I need you to go to the Frost Cafe where you'll meet my informant. It's adjacent to S.T.A.R. Labs, the large white building in the downtown area, you can't miss it," Amanda instructs as I exit the mall.

"Alright, whom should I be looking for?"

"No need," she explains, "I gave him your description. Just stay in plain sight and he'll come to you."

It's only a couple more miles drive before I reach Central City, which looks like Metropolis without the Daily Planet building. Bright sunlight streams in from seemingly all directions, and the skyscrapers tower without being menacing or claustrophobic. Why haven't I been here before?

I find a secluded parking spot just as the car begins to run out of gas. Leaving the keys in the car, I abandon the vehicle and continue into the city. Identifying the Frost Cafe, which I'd imagined as an arctic-themed eatery but instead is a charming coffee shop with warm hardwood floors, I order a cup of hot tea and sit in one of the outdoor tables. When in Rome…

The empty seat across from me is soon filled as a tall, slender man in a plain black shirt and glasses sits in it. He folds his hands together and sets them on the glass table as he leans in, "Ms. Natalie I presume?"

I set down my beverage and lean in, keeping my voice down, "Yes. And you must be Amanda's guy."

He nods, "That would be correct. Did Ms. Waller mention anything about me?"

"Not really," I confess, "to be honest, I think she goes through so many agents that she can't keep track of all of them."

He laughs, revealing a wide grin of near perfect teeth. Despite him being somewhat older than me, his guy looks less like a government agent and more like a male model. Must make getting information out of others easier than if someone like me were to do the same thing.

He extends his right hand, "Harrison Wells."

Now it's my turn to chuckle, "Please tell me your middle name starts with a G. H.G. Wells, that would be perfect."

"Maybe..." he encourages, smiling. But his smile soon fades as he reaches into his over-the-shoulder backpack and pulls out a file folder, "Now, onto business?"

"Of course."

****Author's Note: I want to run some kind of contest this holiday season, basically a scavenger hunt for all the references I've put into the story, but I have no idea what the prize would be. Any suggestions?****

****Song on the record: "Night and Day" by Cole Porter****

****jasper-jordan: From what I've observed in the show, killing is just a means to an end for him. He doesn't get some kind of deprived joy from it (with the exception of Frankie's death, and that's another conversation for another day). And while I agree, Natalie might not be thinking straight, she does have something to gain from the bet, although it might be more emotional than practical.****

****Also, I was trying to be subtle, but the snow globe figurine is suppose to look like the Iceberg Lounge (the discoloring to look like ice, and often more flamboyant portrayals of the Iceberg Lounge resemble the Sydney Opera House). And sorry, I'm not from Australia, I think last chapter I mentioned where I live though. ****

****As for Ed bits, it's kind of hard to include him right now since Natalie will be spending some time in Central City, but once she comes back I've planned something for them, so don't worry! And don't worry about long reviews, I actually prefer them to the short ones, gives me more to think about. Finally, I'd love to read your Gotham fanfic when it's finished, I'll keep an eye out for it :)****

****Emily: Don't worry, Amanda's got her people keeping an eye on him. If he kills anyone, she'll find out****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: It's nice to hear that you like the work bits, because while they're fun to write, historically the readership drops considerably when the chapter's focus isn't romance. And while Mrs. Cobblepot and Natalie have a good relationship right now, that might not always be the case, especially when Oswald comes back into the picture. And don't worry, if this was anything close to work for me, I wouldn't do it. I find time somehow (for example, I am currently writing this as I complete my formula sheet for my Pre-Calculus final)****

****Guest: Dang, beat me to the punch! Good for you :D I'm planning on introducing some flashback scenes mainly involving Natalie and Ed, with perhaps a small cameo from Oswald. Looking forward to it :)****

****Thanks! :)****


	36. Back in a Flash

Chapter 36

Harrison opens the folder, revealing several documents and photos held together with a paper clip. He holds the first document up, which includes a picture of a plain, clear face mask.

"This is what Amanda intended for you. It changes your facial features to however you want them to be," he explains.

That's all good and well, but there seems to be a problem.

"Okay, but why don't you have the tech with you? Amanda said this was just going to be a simple pick up," I tell him.

He sighs. Oh boy, here comes the catch.

"You see, that's where things get...complicated. Yes, this was suppose to be an easy job, but on the way here, our tech was stolen by a local criminal," he swaps out the first document for a single picture of a man with wild clown hair and a ridiculous multi-colored jumpsuit, "the Trickster."

I scoff in disbelief at the picture, "Is...is this for real? Because, that man looks less like a criminal, and more like a children's birthday party performer."

"The elaborate costumed outfit, as well as his manic antics, are his signature. He specializes in eccentric weaponry, making our tech his ideal target."

I point to the abnormally large gun strapped to his back, "What's that? One of his toys?"

Harrison nods, "Yep, an 'acid gun', if you can believe that. Pretty crazy, huh?"

"Good thing I deal in crazy," I half-joke, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckles, covering his mouth as he recovers, "Oh you think this is crazy? Just wait until the guys with freeze rays start showing up."

"What?"

"Nothing," he excuses himself, "back on topic. We've pinned down his next...uhm, shall we say: appearance. He's going to rob the Central City Bank in approximately," he pauses to check his watch, "an hour."

I nod, although the time is oddly specific. But there's something not quite right about this situation, and I think I know what it is. I lean back in my chair, "So let me get this straight, you want me to wrangle stolen tech from a deranged criminal because...let me guess, you let him slip past you?"

"Hey, the stuff had already been stolen once I got there, there was nothing I could do," he raises his hands in defense, "look, I'll help you, of course. I need the tech just as much as you do. But I can't do it alone."

Crossing my arms, I twist my lips, "Alright, I'll help you. Just one question: what's in it for you?"

"Huh?" he tilts his head up in surprise.

"I mean: what sort of tech would be so valuable as to interrupt a bank heist by an insane criminal in a clown suit?" I clarify.

He glances around the mostly empty cafe, before leaning in, "All I can say is, it's a computer prototype, and if he figures out what it can do, well, then it won't be just the two of us who're in trouble."

Alright, as a fellow agent, I can understand his need for secrecy, and considering he's probably already told me more than he should, I can accept that.

"Well," I shrug, "what's the plan?"

* * *

><p>Ed shuffles past the rush of officers in the GCPD, balancing a full stack of papers that rise just above his head. With Natalie away on business, he is once again left to operate on his own. You'd think working for the police would be a social occupation, but it never feels like he interacts with more than a few select individuals. But perhaps it's due to his specific position, part coroner, part tech support, all underpaid. Or at the very least underappreciated. Like right now for example, this is the third paper errand a random officer has sent him on. Yes, yes, their jobs are very hectic, but shouldn't this be a job for the teenaged interns? Do they even still employ those?<p>

"Nygma!" a voice shrieks, and Ed looks to the side just in time to collide with an officer and knocking him to the ground, his papers flying everywhere.

There's an air of indifference among the other officers as they ignore the situation, continuing with their day as if nothing had happened just then. His glasses now slightly askew, Ed re-adjusts them as he scrambles on all fours to retrieve his papers.

"I-I am so sorry," he apologizes profusely, his head bowed.

The officer rolls his eyes and walks off, not even bothering to help.

Ed's just finishing collecting his papers when Detectives Gordon and Bullock walk out of Captain Essen's office. They're talking, about a case perhaps! And perhaps he can be of service! Ed quickly gathers the rest of the papers and strides over to them while they speak quietly at their desks.

"And where are you going?" Gordon asks his partner.

Bullock rolls his eyes, "To work the case. You've got your ways, I got mine."

Ed's just at the base of the stairs when Bullock begins walking out. Gordon peeks his head up, "Hey, Harvey...tell her I said hi."

Who could they be referring to? His conundrum goes unanswered as Bullock walks right past him. Perhaps he wasn't suppose to have heard that conversation. He decides to feign ignorance for now.

Timidly approaching Detective Gordon, Ed tries his best to secure two separate stacks of paper under his arms, "...detective?"

Gordon looks up, his expression tired and preoccupied, "Yeah Ed?"

"How goes the case, detective? Any leads, anything I could help you with?"

He waves his hand away, "No...Ed, no thanks, I think I can handle this myself."

Despite his decline, Ed looks over the detective's shoulder and sees him holding a paper with some seemingly random letters on it, "Well...perhaps I could at least take a look-"

"Ed!" Gordon shouts, both in defense and annoyance. Ed raises his hands as Gordon calms down.

"I...I'm sorry Ed. It's...it's just been a long day and it would make my day if I could do something right on my own once in a while."

He slowly nods, "I, I understand detective. I'll be out of your way now," he turns around and begins shuffling down the stairs. Just as he makes it to the base of the stairs, an incoming officer bumps into him, causing him to lose grip on the papers and sending them scattering to the floor once more.

"Rats."

* * *

><p>Harrison drives us to the Central City Bank in his black van filled with electrical equipment. I look behind my seat, where servers and monitors are strapped down or packed away.<p>

"That's government property, no way could I afford to get all that on my own," he explains, as he turns left.

I examine his car radio, "Do you guys get Gotham City Radio?"

He twists his lip, "I...think we do. Try the AM channels."

His eyes glance over briefly as I turn on the radio and fiddle with the knob, "So you're from Gotham City then? I mean, unless you're from there, I wouldn't understand why you'd want to listen to that depressing channel...no offense."

I turn the knob just a little more until a familiar voice comes through the speakers.

"-we're talking about the Arkham vote with John Ryder and myself. John, how do you think the Arkham district should be utilized?"

"Honestly Vince, a garbage dump in the middle of town would be a waste of space, the mayor's plan for housing much more economical. Besides, if we really need to dump our garbage, that's what we have Bludhaven for, right?!"

I sigh, "Ugh, I forgot, it's the politics hour."

Harrison nods understandably, "Politics in Gotham, heh, its no wonder the people there go mad."

"So you're saying I'm mad? Well, Central City isn't perfect either, everything's so trendy and modern, not to mention coffee costs an arm-and-a-leg," I counter.

He laughs, "Hey, the coffee here might be expensive, but you can't deny it's effective. And besides, I'm not even from Central City, I just arrived here a little while ago."

I raise an eyebrow, "Oh really? Where are you from?"

He pulls up on the other side of the street from the Central City Bank, "We're here."

We unbuckle our seat belts and slide to the back of the van. Harrison grabs a piece of cloth and throws it at me, "Put this on."

I hold it up, realizing it's a t-shirt with a large, adorable teddy bear stamped on the front, "Uhm...why?"

"Trust me, it'll help, there's also a mic hidden on the sleeve, so that we can communicate inside," he explains.

"So, what's the plan exactly?" I ask, lowering myself under the seat so that I can change.

He flips a couple of switches on the monitors, and they suddenly come flaring to life, the bright screens blinding against the dark interior of the van.

"You are to infiltrate the bank from the roof. Trickster is going to most likely come in from the front entrance because he's...subtle like that. So that means he'll hit Vault A first. Your job is to catch him inside the vault."

I cross my arms, "So I take it you're not coming with me?"

Harrison puts on a pair of headphones with a mic attached, "I will be your eyes and ears. That t-shirt has a tracking device on it as well, so I'll be able to guide you through the process from here," he looks down on the floor and picks up something hidden under the monitor, "oh yeah, you'll also need this."

He tosses me a utility belt, standard for all agents, filled to the brim with pockets and gadgets. I buckle it on, organizing it with my daggers and marbles, "Thanks."

There's a scream from outside, and we both rush to the window to see a singular man in a jumpsuit with patches of different colors skipping through the street with a flamethrower. He laughs hysterically as he sets a sidewalk tree on fire, spraying flames until it's completely ablaze.

"He has a flamethrower?!" I exclaim.

"Hey, I thought you said you deal in crazy," Harrison reminds me.

"I said I deal in crazy, not in pyrotechnics.

The Trickster stands at the steps of the bank entrance, where he cackles at nothing in particular before kicking the door open, "Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, the entertainment has arrived," he announces grandly, blowing a spurt of fire into the air.

"You're window of time is running out, once he finishes up with the tellers he'll head for the vault, you have to get before him. Go!" Harrison opens the van door and pushes me out, closing it behind me.

I roll my eyes, "Rude."

"I heard that," Harrison's voice comes in from somewhere in my shirt.

I start walking toward the bank, fumbling around with my shirt until I discover a small, hidden earpiece from which the noise was coming from. Attaching it to my ear, I next reach into my utility belt and pull out the grappling gun contained in one of the pockets. Rounding the corner to the side of the building, I aim the gun at the roof detail before firing, watching the hook fly up and latch onto the detail. Pressing the trigger, the line retracts, sending me zipping up to the roof. It's great having a utility belt again, it's like having a Deus Ex Machina strapped to your hips.

"Okay, you'll want to get in through the second skylight to your right, it'll lead you to the floor above Vault A. From there there's a vent that'll take you directly to the inside of Vault A," Harrison instructs.

"Isn't that kind of insecure?" I ask.

"The people of Central City are very trusting. Nutsos like the Trickster are usually Gotham City's stock and trade."

I nod in agreement, but even Gotham's crazies aren't this crazy.

Replacing my grappling gun for a glass cutter, I carve a hole in the skyline just big enough for me to fit in. Setting the glass aside and jumping through the hole, I silently land on the polished marble floor of the bank. I look around until I spot the vent Harrison described. Unscrewing the bolts on the protective grate, I quietly slip into the cramped vent, closing the grate behind me.

The vent ducts are narrow and claustrophobic, no wonder Harrison couldn't do this himself. Although thin, his tall frame would've had trouble wiggling through here. He's lucky I'm so tiny.

I can't help but make a ton of noise as I squirm through the straight shot of ducts leading to the vault. Hopefully I can get out of here fast without arousing any suspicion.

The Trickster's maniacal laugh echoes through the vents. Either these vents have great resonance, or he's close.

The vent ducts slope down until I realize I must be right under the vault.

The laughing continues as the sound of the Trickster's flamethrower blazes somewhere in the building.

"Here kitty, kitty," the Trickster snivels, his voice low and mischievous.

I jump as the vent duct in front of me becomes red, before collapsing completely. I turn around and start scrambling in the other direction only to scream when the metal directly under my hands becomes scorching hot. The vent under my body gives way and I fall out from the hole in the vent, tumbling onto the cold granite floor. My hands burn from the heat, and I look up to find the Trickster standing directly above me, a cheshire grin plastered across his face, flamethrower in hand.

"Well, what do we have here?"

****Author's Note: How's Ed's third person POV? Would you like to see more?****

****Emily: Here's the next chapter! Doesn't touch on the bet but once we go to Oswald's POV it certainly will****

****UndercoverSkeleton: Oh, I see, I was wondering where your review was (I hate it when I lose a regular reviewer, you guys are so much fun!). But lol, I don't even bother with FF mobile, since it's so finicky at times (wish they had an app).****

****Onto the chapter, writing Oswald/Natalie conversations is so much fun, especially when they pertain to topics of romance. And I specifically decided to put in some Ed scenes since so many people are asking for him, although he physically can't cross over to Central City universe due to the laws of television. As for Harrison, he's (and the Central City universe) from the TV show "The Flash", so if you watch that show, you know who he is, and if you don't, don't worry, you don't really need to****

****Fuchsia Grasshopper: I've found that finding an even balance of romance and story is best for me, rather than relying on one or the other. But for me, in the end, the romance has to serve the story, and not the other way around. And that knife is actually the knife he has in the show (the one he steals from the fisherman and is later seen using to kill people and cut apples). And I don't think Ed's break will happen anytime soon, as they haven't even hinted at it in the show. But when it does, I'll be ready ;)****

****HappyPenguinHologram: Ah, thanks! And no, this is the second time they've exchanged the "I love you"s (the first time being on the fire escape, West Side Story style). And lol, who said it's a relationship? (except maybe Oswald) But I know how you feel, although I think I'd prefer my IRL relationship to being with Oswald personally ****

****jasper-jordan: He's mad, but he's biding his time until the right moment to unleash his anger. And yes, I'm waiting for them to meet, but I'm also realizing how unfeasible it is at this stage. Even so, Gotham writers answer my prayer! And that's an interesting point, with Oswald having an influence on Ed. About your fanfic, if you want help I'll gladly answer any questions or read it over should you need it.****

****And yeah, next chapter, Oswald gets to have a moment****

****Guest: Thanks, hope you enjoy this next chapter :)****

****Thanks! :)****


	37. Trickster's Favor

Chapter 37

"I thought I heard something in those vents," the Trickster smiles triumphantly, "I just didn't expect it to be so...big."

He grabs me by my shirt and pulls me up, aiming his flamethrower directly at my face, "Who're you? Who do you work for?! I'm a very dangerous man and I'll stop at noth-"

He stops, his face frozen on my t-shirt, "Teddy bear...those are my favorite!" he smiles gleefully as he pulls me closer to him, "You're a woman after my own heart, huh?"

So that's why Harrison decided on the teddy bear t-shirt. I decide to take this opportunity and use it to my advantage.

"Yes...Mr. Trickster...I...I'm a big fan of yours," I lie, smiling.

He with his flamethrower in one hand he wraps his free arm around my waist. I look over and see that his flamethrower has a DIY quality to it, being comprised of mostly household objects.

"Oh, a fan?" his tone becomes grizzled and gruff, "I didn't know I had fans."

That's understandable, considering he's a crazy psychopath, but you'd be surprised at the kinds of psychopaths that have fans.

"Help me," the Trickster commands, tossing me a cloth bag, "start filling this up. Also, put this on."

He opens the palm of his hand to reveal a thin, light blue satin mask that just barely covers my eyes, "A disguise, so no one will know your identity. I'm sure somewhere else you're a fine, respectable young woman who wouldn't want to be caught with a dastardly criminal such as myself," he explains as he wraps the mask around my head, allowing me to tie a knot at the end.

He walks around the vault, pulling out the various black drawers full of cash and dumping their contents into his similar cloth bag. I walk around the rows of storage drawers, making sure to check the tiny labels on the drawer handles.

"The hundred dollar bills are over here. You're grabbing from the ones," I point out.

He looks down at the dollars in his sack, "Oh...I knew that."

He dumps the money onto the floor and strides over to me, slowly sauntering and winking.

I want to puke. This guy looks old enough to be my father, even with the clown hair. But I'm suppose to play the part of the fan, right? Old guy or not, I have to keep a straight face, if I can.

Wraps his arm under my shoulders and pulls me close, "Kid, I have a feeling this is the start of a beautiful relationship."

The alarms in the bank sound off. The Trickster grabs the nearest drawer, yanking it out and emptying the contents into his bag, "Shoot, one of those damned tellers must've gotten free!"

I nod, before I start to fill my own bag with stacks of hundred dollar bills. As I'm just finishing filling the bag, the Trickster looks over at me.

"Oh, wait!" he puts his bag down and pulls out a black marker. On my bag, he quickly draws a large dollar sign on the front, "perfect."

Two officers walk in through the half-melted vault door, "Freeze!"

The Trickster blasts his flamethrower at the officers until they're burned to a crisp. He cackles out loud, "Barbeque on a badge!"

I laugh too, although I didn't find it funny. We walk out of the vault, the Trickster apparently in no rush to leave. We make it to the main lobby to find several officers ready to open fire. I take cover behind the corner while the Trickster slides behind a nearby column.

"Time to prove your stuff, sweet cheeks!" he declares, sliding something to me.

The object arrives to me and I realize the item is a handgun, the CCPD label stamped on the side. I pick up the gun and load it. The gunfire on the other side slowly comes to a stop. Now's my chance. I step out of cover, hitting three officers before I have to step back into cover again.

"Hey, not bad! You ever shot before?!" he asks over the gunfire.

I smile, "I've shot a couple of times."

After I exchange fire with the officers a couple more times, their numbers begin dwindling. While I never miss a shot, I'm very careful not to get hit myself. Am I not taking care of them fast enough? Am I going back into cover too quickly?

"It's time for us to make our exit!" the Trickster announces.

He steps out of his hiding spot and starts up his flamethrower, spraying the flames in every direction, his laughter echoing through the building. By the time he's through, nothing in the bank lobby has been untouched by the fire, and several objects are still burning.

Firing down his flamethrower, the Trickster straps it to his back, "C'mon out, baby! It's time we make our exit."

I approach him, gun in hand. He swipes it from me and holds it to my head, "Sorry baby, but I need a hostage to get past the rest of the police force. No hard feelings?"

"Of course not baby," I reply sweetly, even though I'm terrified he'll pull the trigger anyway.

Grabbing my arm with one hand, and holding the gun to my head with the other, he grabs my bag of money and scrunches up my mask to make it look like a blindfold before leading me outside.

"Don't shoot! Or I'll kill her!" he declares dramatically, forcing the gun into my cheek.

The remaining officers lower their weapons as the Trickster leads me down the stairs.

"Good work Natalie. The Trickster will lead you to his hideout, where the stolen tech lies," Harrison's voice comes in through my ear.

So he intended for me to get kidnapped all along? Guess the bank robber isn't the only trickster I'm dealing with.

The Trickster takes me to a goofy looking van belonging to a toy company with a giant clown head on the top. Throwing me into the back with the money, he hops into the front and drives off.

* * *

><p>Oswald returns to Trixie's apartment from his first day at work. Using the clothes and shoes he'd stolen off of that dishwasher, he used them to get a job at Bamonte's (after having Trixie clean them first). Bamonte's, as any Gothamite will tell you, is the main meeting place of gangster Salvatore Maroni. Maroni is also well-known as the main competitor of Carmine Falcone, the boss of Fish Mooney and the most powerful gangster in Gotham. And in the meantime, he's still working for Falcone as his snitch, par their agreement before his "death". So, once he rises in the ranks at Maroni's side, he'll have a seat at both tables, play both sides against each other. Who comes out on top...well, that'll be entirely up to him.<p>

"I'm home dear!" he calls out, but then he stops in his place at the doorway.

He'd forgotten she's out of town. He sighs, closing the door behind him. The apartment seems so empty without her, even when she was out, it was exciting because he never quite knew when she was coming back. He collapses onto her couch, hoping the grease and smell from his work clothes doesn't get onto the furniture. Maybe he should grab one of his suits from downstairs, but he couldn't be bothered right now, and Mom would notice if one of them went missing.

He gets up and waddles over to open the fridge. There are several plates of fully prepared meals wrapped inside. If she's out of town, why did she make all this food…? He gasps as he realizes that the food is for him. He grabs one of the plates, tearing off the plastic covering. Fried calamari, one of his favorites, how did she know?

After heating them up on the frying pan a little, he sits down at the dining table, fork in hand. Quickly devouring the dish, he looks up from his seat and the small, white piano by the window catches his eye. She's lucky to be able to have her own place, Mom would never let him keep the piano in the main room.

Dumping the plate into the sink and briefly washing his hands, he makes his way over to the piano. Opening it up reveals the white and black keys, and Oswald gracefully sits down as if he's a concert pianist, even pretending to push back imaginary coattails.

He starts playing one of his usual pieces, dark and somber. While he tries to focus on playing, his mind quickly wanders to other topics. He first thinks of a man he'd met at work the other day, Frankie. Tall, gruff, clad in a long leather jacket, Oswald couldn't help but feel a small pang of infatuation for the man. But all Frankie responds with is an annoyed stare or a roll of the eyes, just like the rest of them.

That's how the world has always seen him, insignificant, inconsequential. Well he'll show them, he'll show them all. He will rise to the top and once there, he will crush anyone and everyone who dare challenge him, who dare mistreat him, who dare think they can walk all over him like a carpet.

This must be what makes Trixie so special, Oswald realizes. She welcomed him with care, concern, and warmth. Even now, when she has plenty of reasons to scorn him, there are times when she runs to him, in need of him, wanting him.

But there's another side to her. One that does not approve of their love. Perhaps it's her morals, or her apathy towards people, or her general nature, but some part of her that still pushes him away from her, even if she is simply avoiding the inevitable. He sees it in her expression, for she's constantly trying to convince herself that she holds no feelings for him.

The song he plays on the piano ends, and Oswald suddenly thinks of the perfect song for his current train of thought. He plays the simple intro, and sings in a somewhat flat tone.

"_I know too well that I'm, just wasting precious time in thinking such a thing could be: you could have a care for me. I'm sure you hate to hear, that I adore you dear. But grant me just the same, I'm not entirely to blame_."

He needs a way to get close to Maroni, which shouldn't be too hard. Maroni is brash, arrogant, and prideful, someone like that is easy to manipulate.

"_For...you'd be, so easy to love. So easy to idolize, all others above. So sweet to waken with, so nice to sit down to eggs and bacon with. We'd be so grand at the game, so carefree together, that it does seem a shame...that you can't see, your future with me...cause you'd be oh, so easy to love._"

Fish and Falcone will be harder to get to. He's certainly not relying on gaining Fish's trust, it's Falcone's trust that he needs the most right now. Perhaps a double-cross of Maroni a time or two will do the trick. Oswald slides his hands across the piano, adding his own flourishes, and picking up the tempo.

"_You'd be so easy to love, so easy to idolize, all others above. So worth the yearning for, so swell to keep every home fire burning for. Oh, how, we'd bloom, how we'd thrive, in a cottage for two, or even three, four, or five! So try to see...your future with me...cause you'd be oh...so easy...to love…_"

He smiles, and closes the piano. Clutching the stool with both hands, he daydreams of winning his bet with Trixie. She thinks it's unlikely he'll win, well, she'll just have to wait and see. He'll prove himself to her, and he'll get his sweet, sweet reward, but more importantly, he'll have her trust. And having her trust, is the key to keeping her at his side.

**Author's Note:**

**Song: "Easy to Love" from "Anything Goes"**

**Guest (UndercoverSkeleton?): Thanks, I'll keep the Ed chapters going, maybe have them rotate with Oswald. And keep in mind if you wanna start watching "The Flash", it takes place several years after BOAF, so Harrison Wells is a bit more established there. Lol, I love how you referred to the Trickster as "the clown guy" since he was originally played by Mark Hamill, who's also played the Joker on occasion. **

**As for your fanfiction, I encourage you to continue trial and error (the original concept of BOAF had Natalie and Oswald stealing diamonds, you never know where these stories are going to take you). And the reason Ed doesn't have a lot of fics is because he hasn't had a lot of exposure on the show. It's mostly just people who know him from the comics or the games. Oswald gets more fics because he's a bigger character, has more character development, and is practically fangirl bait. And I agree, Ed should have his own fic, I was actually worried when I introduced him that no one would know him. Happy writing on your end!**

**Emily: Lol, here's your update! And the bet may take a little to complete, but I promise it'll be worth it!**

**Guest: Wait...they'll take it to the next level if he **_**wins**_ **the bet, unless I'm misinterpreting your definition of "taking it to the next level". And I think when she lets her walls down, it's never going to be permanent, since Oswald's always keeping her on her toes**

**Fuchsia Grasshopper: Yeah, I can imagine Ed swinging around a question mark cane in the style of Jim Carrey. All in good time ;) As for the fisherman's knife, the way I tried to write it, you were suppose to know that his knife is the fisherman's knife, but I guess I didn't make that clear enough. Sorry :(**

**Thanks! :)**


	38. Enter Trickstress, Exit Edward

Chapter 38

The Trickster's van pulls up at an abandoned warehouse after having lost the police. I have to wonder, how does a distinctly decorated van escape the police? But somehow, the Trickster pulled it off. He giddily jumps out, scurrying to the back to collect the money.

"What're you going to do with your newfound wealth Mr. Trickster?" I ask him, helping him carry a bag into the warehouse.

He kicks open the warehouse door to reveal a colorful wonderland of bright lights and strange contraptions, "Why, for my master plan of course, my dear!" he swivels around to face me. Dropping the bag of money, he paces toward me dramatically before grabbing me and pulling me close, "And you can call me James, baby," he gives an almost comedic wink before him begins pacing forward, leading us into the warehouse.

"So...what's your name sweetheart?"

"Trixie," I tell him, seeing as that's become my default criminal name.

He wraps an arm around my waist and squeezes me tightly, "Oh, Trixie! That's perfect! Twist the name around a bit and you get...the Trickster! But you'd need an original name, something that would signify our partnership, but also distinguish you from myself...the Trickster and...his partner in crime the lovely Trickstress! It's brilliant!"

I smile, although I can't help but have a little sarcasm in my expression. A feminizing of the Trickster's name is incredibly unoriginal yes, but what else could he call me? Prank? Harlequin?

"You'll also need a costume!" he realizes, dashing behind a set of funhouse mirrors, "I think I have something…"

While he rummages through all of his junk, I look around. Tools and electrical equipment mix with images of clowns and scattered toys. A central workshop bench is covered with wrenches, mechanical parts, and a framed picture of Jack from Fish Mooney's. It's a black and white picture with a signature on the bottom right hand corner, cursive words saying: "_All the best! Jack N._"

"Ah, here it is! I knew I had something in a woman's size," the Trickster exclaims, presenting me with a blue leotard with polka dots.

He hands it to me, "Go on, go on, try it on! I promise I won't peek."

I dash behind the funhouse mirrors, but before I even think of changing, my attention is brought to a pristine, metal case. It looks so out of place compared to everything else, could this compared to everything else. Could this case house the stolen tech?

I walk over to the case, and feel around its edges. The use to be a lock on it, but someone blasted it open, probably Trickster. I open the case to find...it's empty. Damnit, if the tech was in here, then it's gone now. Did he sell it? Or is it hidden somewhere else?

"Almost done poopsykins?" the Trickster's cooing voice echoes through the warehouse.

"Almost sweetiepie," I respond, trying to sound cute.

I quickly close the case and get back to changing into the leotard. Amid his clutter, I also find a pair of dark blue pirate boots and matching fingerless gloves that work nicely with the leotard. I put the mask on as a finishing touch. As soon as I'm done I poke my head out from behind the mirrors, "You ready to see, baby?"

"Oh, I'm ready."

I step out into his line of sight, "Meet your new and improved, Trickstress!" I present myself in his silly sky blue leotard, trying to imitate his dramatic flair.

The Trickster whistles, before getting on all fours and barking like a dog. Meanwhile, I feel cold and exposed in this outfit. This tight, clingy one piece makes even some of costumes I've worn at Fish Mooney's seem decent.

"Oh baby! You look absolutely divine!"

I smile, "Why thank you," I slowly approach him wrapping my arms around his shoulders, "have to ask though, why do you have all of these women's clothes?"

He smiles back, "Let's just say I'm a collector."

Ugh, creepy.

He takes my hand and leads me to his workbench, where he grabs a handful of the many blueprints stuffed into his shelf.

"With all of the muhla we've acquired, I'm going to pull off the crime of the century!" he announces, pulling out the rolled up blueprints to reveal plans for several weapons and tools.

"What are you gonna do?" I ask.

He turns to me with a devilish smile, "I'll show you. Could you be a dear and hand me today's paper?" he points to a newspaper lying on the other side of the room.

I walk over to the newspaper and pick it up. The front page headlines read, "_Man Convicted of Killing Wife_". Huh, so I guess Gotham City and Central City aren't too different after all. I hand the paper to him, and he shuffles through the main section.

"Hmm...ack! All this junk! But by tomorrow, the papers will be filled with my name!" the Trickster declares, "Ah, here we are."

He turns the paper around to display an article with a picture of a giant diamond, "Marsha's Diamond. One of the largest and most valuable diamonds in the world is on display at the Central City Museum."

"And you plan on stealing it?" I finish.

"Not me," he reaches behind his back and pulls out a clear mask, the same mask in the picture Harrison showed me. He puts the mask on, and his face warps to become someone I don't recognize, "but the mayor of Central City, young Hamilton Hill!"

I force a smile, "Framing the mayor for stealing a diamond? Why? Do you have something against the mayor?"

"His vision for Central City and mine are...well, conflicting. I get him booted from office, and then threaten whichever poor sap they get to replace him! The Trickster will run Central City's politics! Anyone who doesn't comply will suffer a similar fate," he pulls something else from behind his back, "also when I stole this mask I got a little consolation prize as well. No idea what it does, but it sure makes for a pretty little paperweight."

He holds out a cube made of a strange black metal. It seems to glow around the patterns etched into its design. This must be what Harrison is after.

The Trickster places the cube down on his stack of blueprints, while grabbing a singular blueprint and holding it out in front of us, "So, my dear, with this tech, my plan and your prowess, we are going to rule this town!"

* * *

><p>Ed walks into the GCPD records annex, where one Kristen Kringle is placing files in their proper category.<p>

"Oh Ms. Kringle, I was wondering if you'd like to go lunching with me," he proposes, leaning by the doorway.

"No thank you Mr. Nygma," she replies bluntly, refusing to look up from her papers.

He chuckles nervously, "Well you see, the reason why I ask is because I was wondering if we could…" Kristen turns around, and Ed stops his sentence, as if her stare alone silenced him. He works up the courage to be begin talking again, "discuss matters of casual conversation."

She turns back to her work, "Ed, have I ever accepted one of your lunch requests? Or _any_ of your requests?"

He looks down, "Uhm...well…"

"Ed, please, just go," she asks, carrying a tired expression.

Ed nods and closes the door behind him. That did not go as he'd hoped. Perhaps in a week or two?

**Author's Note: Merry Christmas! If not, well, have a good day anyway! :)**

**jasper-jordan: Ah, it's alright, happens to the best of us. And yeah, Natalie left food for Oswald, because I can't imagine him cooking, in between stabbing people and mob business. And that's true Ed is fangirl bait, just less exposed fan bait. I actually just saw an interview with Cory Michael Smith (Ed's actor) that hinted that Ed may be the next villain to have an arc after Oswald**

**Emily: Thanks, I'm writing these Trickster/Central City chapters as a satire on supervillains and their fanbase, especially Oswald's**

**Guest: Wow, I never thought someone would question that deeply on the timing of the Suicide Squad or the Flash, especially since I wasn't expecting any of you guys to know who they are. In this story, the Suicide Squad isn't technically even formed yet, Amanda is just sending Natalie out to scout for potential members (definitely no Harley Quinn, maybe Deathstroke, but if we're following the Flash/Arrow timeline as well, idk what he'd be doing at this time). As for the Flash, keep in mind that this is the CW Flash, and not the Flash show from the 90s. In the CW Flash, there will be an older Trickster (played by Mark Hamill), and a younger, copycat Trickster. The one in this story is the older Trickster (hence all of my Joker references), and on top of that, Detective West mentions that Dr. Wells moved to Central City right after the death of Barry's mom, so the timing syncs up. This would make Bruce slightly older than Barry, but it doesn't really matter as they'll never crossover anyway due to the laws of television. Thanks for reviewing! :)**

**Fuchsia Grasshopper: Thanks, and I love writing about her job. As for the bet, I can't decide when it'll end, I'm trying to find a particularly dry moment in the show's canon (maybe after the events of Viper, as I have something planned revolving around that episode). And yeah, I need to rewatch the episodes again, but you know someone uploaded a YouTube video of all of Oswald's scenes from this half of the season, and that is going to help me so much when writing this. Hope to read your one-shot soon, if it isn't up by the time this is posted!**

**Thanks! :)**


	39. Mythic Beginnings

Chapter 39

The Trickster and I roll up to a pristine mansion on the outskirts of Central City in a white news van he'd stolen a couple of blocks away. We're both dressed in sharp business suits, and the Trickster already has his facial disguise as well as a black toupee on.

"Alright, so first, we have to kidnap the real mayor. To make sure he doesn't get in the way," the Trickster explains, "say babe, how do I look?"

I smile, leaning over to his side. I touch his face, feeling for the slight curve in his skin. With it, I slowly peel off the mask, revealing his real face.

"Now? I think you look rather dashing."

His breathing quickens, before he leans in and starts to sloppily kiss me on the lips. This is beyond disgusting, but I know if I let go too soon, he'll realize something's amiss.

I let go after a couple of seconds, not knowing how much longer he would've kept on going if I'd let him. I hand him back his mask.

"Oh, my dear. When we finish pulling off my latest plot, you and I are going to enjoy a passionate, eager honeymoon," he growls, pulling the keys out of van and yanking off his seatbelt.

I continue to smile, but I'm also sick to my stomach. At least now I know my exit cue.

We climb to the back of the van, where the Trickster arms himself with various weapons and tools. While he isn't looking, I pull a small black duffel bag out from under a pile of toys. Inside the duffel bag are my daggers, marbles, and utility belt. Strapping my utility belt to my pants, and securing my knives and marbles onto my legs, I follow the Trickster out of the van. He's holding a professional TV camera, the large piece of equipment obscuring his face. He hands me a dummy microphone, the large fake speaker and handle made of styrofoam.

We walk up the paved path to the white mansion. I ring the doorbell, and a man with black hair and a mustache answers the door in his bathrobe.

"You're, you're here already? I thought the interviewers weren't suppose to show up for a couple of hours-"

"Say cheese, Hill!" the Trickster cries, before aiming the camera directly at him.

A bright flash hits Mayor Hill, and I receive some of the light too, blinding me in an instant. There's a thud, as the mayor presumably hits the floor. I lean against the doorway as the Trickster passes me, his legs brushing by me.

"Did I get you too, sweetheart? Sorry, but these things happen," the Trickster apologizes as he hoists up he Trickster apologizes as he begins to drag the mayor's body along the hardwood floor.

I rub my eyes, only just beginning to recover from the stun when the sound of footsteps echo across the room. By the time I finally regain my vision and look up, the Trickster has Mayor Hill tied up.

"He will wake soon. We must have committed the deed by then. Till then, no one must see him. Help me carry him," the Trickster commands, keeping his tone hushed.

We carry the mayor down a flight of stairs to the basement, and afterwards quickly escape out the backdoor.

"I can't believe Mayor Hill doesn't have any security," I comment as we get back into the van.

The Trickster chuckles, "People in Central City are trusting, my dear, this isn't Gotham, you know," he laughs to himself as he starts up the van, "although, I've always wanted to visit that place. Scalawags, thieves, mobsters, crooks, vandals, cutpurses! My kind of people, you know?"

I smile sarcastically, "You'd fit right in, James."

We roll up next to the Central City Museum. The Trickster adjusts his mask before stepping out of the van, "Remember, you're my lovely assistant. Just smile and I'll do all the talking."

I nod, pretending to follow his lead. He strides confidently through the front doors, where the man at the front desk greets him as "Mr. Mayor". If I didn't know any better, I'd say that he looks like mayor material.

It's not long before we approach the exhibit containing the diamond. The diamond is massive in size, and sits on a pillow sealing in a glass case.

"Now, we mustn't make it too obvious," the Trickster, in his Mayor Hill disguise, whispers to me, "we must get our old friend caught in the act, but it must also be dramatic and artful. Now go to the security room and disable the alarms."

"Yes sir," I say aloud, bowing my head before racing off.

My high heels pound against the marble floor. I locate the security booth as a small, tucked away room by the elevators. Opening the door, I find a singular security guard watching over the security controls. He turns around, "Hey lady, you're not suppose to-"

One of my marbles smacks into him, sending electrical shocks through his body. He collapses to the floor, and I quickly close the room door, locking it behind me.

I look over the controls, and see the camera showing the diamond exhibit, where the Trickster is patiently waiting for his cue.

I disable the alarms, and with a few extra button pushes, I open the case containing the diamond. The Trickster slowly walks up to the diamond, takes it, then turns to the security camera and gives me a thumbs up. I smile, but just then, there's a banging at the door. I throw off my disguise, revealing my Trickstress outfit underneath. I tie my mask on just as two more security guards burst through the door.

"Freeze!" they cry, but I throw two more marbles that dispel a thick fog. The security guards start coughing, allowing me to slide past them. Making my way out of the fog, I press the elevator button. Waiting for the elevator, one of the security guards makes it out, aiming his gun at me. I duck as bullets hit the walls of the museum. I slide toward the security guard, kicking him from underneath and tripping him to the floor. Lifting one leg, I slam it down onto his stomach just as the elevator arrives. I run in, pushing past several distraught visitors. I find the emergency exit and lift it up, escaping through it to the elevator shaft.

Once there, I take out the grappling gun from my utility belt and fire, the line carrying me straight up to the top floor. With one of my daggers, I pry the elevator door open, and run out into the hallway. The top floor is deserted, being only reserved for parties and special events, and I easily make it up to the skylight. It's early nighttime, with a clear, starry sky and a bright, luminous moon.

I look down and a large crowd has surrounded the Trickster as "Mayor Hill" at the front entrance of the museum. From my utility belt, I take out a hearing aid to help me hear what the people down there are saying.

"Haha! I've stolen the fabled Martha's Diamond! Those crummy old museum hands had no right to keep it in the first place!" he declares, holding out the diamond for all to see.

My utility belt practically being a Mary Poppins bag at this point, I take out a long cord and secure one end to the building, and the other to my foot.

"Mr. Hill, have you gone insane?" a news reporter asks, holding out a microphone for him to speak to.

I smirk, as I back up slightly, and jump off of the building, making sure to get as far away from the building itself as possible.

"Well young lady, you see-" but the Trickster stops as he and the rest of the crowd looks up as I descend from the roof, a helicopter spotlight shining down on me. At about the halfway point, I pull out my grappling gun, aiming and firing back at the top of the building. The leverage of the two wires securing me slows down my decent, giving me the illusion of flying. I reach the ground, ending up upside down right next to the Trickster.

"Not quite," I quip before I grab the Trickster's mask, tearing it off, taking off his toupee with it, revealing his orange clown hair.

"That's not the mayor! That's the Trickster!" a young boy calls out.

I chuckle, before pressing the trigger on the grappling gun, sending me zipping back up to the roof. As I reach the roof, I watch as two cops arrest the Trickster.

"Someone tricked the Trickster? That's irony," one of the cops jokes to the other as they handcuff her.

The Trickster looks up to the roof, "Oh Trickstress, baby! You've won my heart! You're cruel, manipulative, conniving, insensitive...everything I want in a woman! Do you hear me Trixie?! I love you! I love you!"

I shudder, man that guy is creepy. I look down at the mask, now having turned back into a thin, clear shape. Guess this would come in handy for a lot of things...like escaping right now.

* * *

><p>I return to the Trickster's warehouse for the cube, but by the time I get there, it's gone.<p>

"I guess this is where we part ways," Harrison greets.

I turn around and see that he's right behind me, tossing the cube in one hand, the early morning sunrise just behind him.

I cross my arms, "Yeah, and thanks for not telling me about your little ploy."

"I have no idea what you're-"

"You know what I'm talking about," I interrupt, "you had me wear that teddy bear t-shirt because you knew he'd like it, didn't you? And you also knew that the Trickster had his tech back here, at the warehouse, and not with him at the bank robbery. You wanted me to get kidnapped."

He rolls his head, "To be fair, you weren't kidnapped, you willing went with him to earn his favor, which was the smart thing to do. I used the t-shirt as a precaution, and it just happened to be the first thing he noticed. And I had you meet him at the bank robbery because to be fair, nobody knew where his hideout was until he lead you to it. So, sorry if I had to work with what I knew."

I scrunch my eyebrows. He had some good points, and I can understand working with limited information. It's just...something still doesn't seem right.

"Oh yeah, I need the utility belt back," he reaches his hand out.

I roll my eyes, before unbuckling it and handing it to him, "Fine, but I'm keeping this costume, and of course, my new mask."

"The Trickstress costume? Why keep it?" he asks.

"It's grown on me, and who knows? I kind of like this masked heroism thing. I could be like the Gray Ghost, citizen by day, hero by night," I joke.

He arches an eyebrow, "What's the Gray Ghost?"

I scoff in disbelief, "You don't know the Gray Ghost? It's only the most popular television series out right now. I watch it with my friend Ed all the time."

"I'll have to catch it sometime," he laughs, "say, one more thing. How're you and Oswald?"

I stop, all expression draining from my face, "How...how do you know about him?"

"I'm just curious. How are you two right now?"

"You didn't answer my question," I clarify.

He chuckles, lowering his head to the ground, "No worries," he looks up with a knowing expression, "I'm sure you two will work it out. Farewell for now, Natalie."

With his cube in hand, there's a strong current of wind, and just like that, Harrison's gone. I shake my head, man, I need to get back to Gotham. They might have crazy criminal psychopaths, but this place is just weird!

* * *

><p>Oswald lies down on Trixie's couch, having just returned from confronting James Gordon. Even though he refused his offer to help him, the two of them have a silent agreement to not rat each other out. Gordon is, after all, the man who was suppose to kill him. But he didn't, allowing Oswald to return to Gotham. He jeopardized his own well-being to spare his life. It's strangely...kind of him. He can still count the number of people who've ever done kind things for him on one hand. Mom, Natalie, and Gordon. Three people. For Oswald, this isn't a bad number. For the longest time, it was just his mother, and while he loves her, one person alone could not satisfy his need for...for what exactly? Friendship? Compassion? Companionship? Respect? Love? Perhaps it's all of these things, or maybe it's something entirely different. Whatever quality he searches for, it could only be found through other humans.<p>

Oswald gets up, not wanting to crinkle his suit. He should really get some casual clothes for simply wearing around the house, but something about fashionable suits empowered him. They make him feel important, and respectable. Hopefully there's enough closet space in her closet to fit both of their clothes.

Although, he should seriously consider rekindling relations with his mother. Trixie clearly doesn't like the idea of supporting him when a family member lives right downstairs. And why should she provide him living quarters to begin with? He's not blackmailing her, well, he did threaten her with death that one time, but he hasn't had to do it since. Some part of him doesn't want to leave though, and not for the reason he gives. He knows his mother will welcome him back with open arms, even if she'll be a bit irritated with him at first. No, it's not that. He, he likes the idea of him and Trixie living together. Perhaps he simply likes the idea of living with someone who will do all the housework, but, it couldn't be just that. Does...does he love her? He shakes his head at the notion. No, no, those are just words, things he says to, to manipulate her feelings, to ingratiate her to him. He couldn't mean it.

Oswald leans against the door, shaking his head, his breath racing and his heart pounding for no apparent reason. He couldn't mean it...he couldn't…

**Author's Note:**

**UndercoverSkeleton: No worries, I've been super busy too, and I'm going to be rearranging my release schedule now that I've booked a show. And haha, the Joker/Harley thing is intentional, I almost straight up said "Harley Quinn" but I changed it to "Harlequin" at the last minute. As for your suggestion, while I understand your frustration, if I were to change it to a crossover, I'd have a number of problems. In this story, I consider the entire DC universe at my disposal (hence my introduction with the Suicide Squad and my five thousand view drop from Chapter 1 to Chapter 2), this is just the first time I've featured characters outside the normal Batman mythos so prominently. Would I make it a crossover with Batman comics because Jack, Otis, Aaron, and Nora are all established Batman characters? Or should I make it a crossover with Superman the Animated Series due to the brief cameo of Winslow Schott? I've also mentioned Bludhaven and Star City, would that make it a crossover with Nightwing and Green Arrow? There's also the visibility problem. If I change it to a crossover, it would no longer appear on the normal page, and I've already taken a hit in terms of viewers due to the combined mid-season break and holiday season. In conclusion, to quote Bob Chipman "COMICS ARE WEIRD!", and don't worry, these crossover things are not going to be frequent, and you don't need to understand the character's backstory to understand the story. Just treat them as original characters, because, I may keep it contained to Gotham for awhile, but that doesn't mean the DC easter eggs are going to stop**

**Emily: Thanks, this incarnation of the Trickster works very much as a exaggeration/parody of what would happen if I wrote Oswald badly. And hope you enjoyed Oswald's POV in this chapter!**

**Fuchsia Grasshopper: Thanks! With Ed and Kristen, I plan on just following the show, as they're not really the focus. I plan on ending the bet a little after she comes back, so it'll be soon! Hope you have a wonderful holiday as well, and I loved your one-shot, but you already knew that :3**

**jasper-jordan: Yeah...the Trickster thinks he's suave and charming but...he's really creepy, and kind of gross. **

**Thanks, I love writing for Ed, he's so easy to write for, probably because I spend a lot of time with people with similar traits.**

**And I'm excited too for Ed to have some time in the spotlight, although I'm not sure that fans unaware of his comic book origins like him very much**

**Thanks! :)**


	40. Gotham is Her Home

Chapter 40

"So, you're the Trickstress? Natalie, explain!" Amanda commands into the cell phone as I sit at the foot of the bed in a hotel room somewhere in Central City.

"Your agent Harrison got the tech by the Trickster. He then used me into getting the Trickster to like me and lead him back to his hideout where the tech was hidden. He gave me the costume and monologued about his plan to use the mask to frame the mayor for stealing a rare diamond and taking control of Central City's politics. I went along...until I didn't, and I foiled his plot. End of story, now, can you please arrange for some kind of way back to Gotham?" I ask, flopping my back onto the bed.

"Why? Can't you get out on your own?"

I sigh, looking out the window, "Nope. They've locked down the entire city searching for me. I've been stuck in the city for four days now, I've tried everything. Even though I helped reveal the Trickster's evil scheme, I'm still a 'armed and dangerous individual'...and while that may be true, so is any police officer! This sort of thing would never happen in Gotham!"

"Alright, I can pull a few strings. What was this agent's name again? Harrison?" she responds flatly.

"Yeah. Harrison Wells, like H.G. Wells, the guy who wrote '_The Time Machine_'. Eccentric guy, but then again, what agent isn't?"

There's typing on Amanda's end, and then a period of silence, "Oh no…"

"What's wrong Amanda?" I jump up from lying down.

"...nothing. It wasn't your fault. I'll have you escorted out of the city at the North Side exit in an hour."

I get off of the bed, grabbing my black duffel bag of belongings, "What's not my fault Amanda? Don't tell me that tech is in the wrong hands?"

She sighs, "No, what's wrong is that the tech is in the hands of its original owner. But I'll have other agents deal with it. You need to get back to Gotham to scout for Suicide Squad candidates, speaking of which, how is that going?"

"Victor Zsasz is suppose to drop by Fish Mooney's in a day or two, hence, why I need to get back to Gotham ASAP. As for other candidates, there's this guy who works for Fish Mooney named Butch Gilzean, and he seems pretty capable."

"I'm looking them up on our database right now," Amanda confirms, "hmm...they both show, but Zsasz is probably your best bet. Anyone else?"

I close the hotel room door and begin descending the stairs. Outside of many doors are empty room service plates, guess all these guys are stuck in the city as well.

"I was going to suggest the Trickster, but considering that you don't like unstable types-"

"You do have to consider at least a little instability when looking for these kinds of soldiers, but yes, the Trickster would be too much trouble to be worth it," there's more typing on her end, "although, he does sport an impressive resume. Real name James Jesse...wanted for murder in twelve states under different names...master of disguise...renowned escape artist. Hmph, I don't know what the CCPD are thinking, they should be thanking you," Amanda concludes jokingly.

I chuckle, "Thanks Amanda, but I don't think a thanks is in order. I am 'armed and dangerous' after all."

* * *

><p>I'm back in Gotham within a few hours, the sun just beginning to set on the horizon of the Gotham Bay. I disposed of the cell phone back in Central City, just like I'd promised to Amanda. Besides, she's right, those things are far too easy to track.<p>

I climb the stairs of the apartment, hoping that Oswald hasn't completely trashed the place, or worse, redecorated. I unlock the door, letting it slide open slowly, the old wood creaking along its hinges. I lean in and see Oswald in the kitchen, heating up some of the food I cooked for him. He looks up, his green eyes wide and expressive. He smiles, "You're home."

I smile, walking in and closing the door, "Yeah."

"I heard about the Central City lockdown. How did you get out of the city?" he asks, following me to my room.

I shrug, "I pulled some strings. The lockdown was an overreaction in my opinion, Gotham gets criminals like that all the time."

"Hehe, speaking of criminals, have you heard what's been on the radio lately?" he asks.

I throw my duffel bag into the back of my closet, I'll sort all that stuff out later, right now I'm just so tired, "No, I haven't. There wasn't a radio in my hotel room."

Oswald leads me back into the living room, he turns on my radio, where a female reporter is speaking.

"I'm talking to you live from the Gotham City streets, where another sighting of the masked vigilante has been spotted. Here he's reportedly stopped an mob related robbery. We're talking with the victim right now, sir, what exactly did you see?"

"He, he came out of no where," the man stutters, "he was wearing all black, with a red cape. I, I don't know, I only saw for a second!"

"We'll get back to you after further information has been revealed, as well as an official statement from the police-"

Oswald turns the radio off, "This guy has been disrupting mob transactions. Whoever he is, he's bad for business."

Wow, I'm not getting a break, am I?

"No more crazy super-villains right now, I'm tired," I tell Oswald, pacing over to the couch.

He sits down with me, and I lean my head over to the kitchen, "Your food's burning," I state matter-of-factly.

Oswald jumps up and runs to the kitchen, where the soup he'd been reheating is now boiling over. As he frantically stirs the pot, I realize he has no idea what he's doing. Getting up, I stumble over toward him, "Let me do it."

Shoving Oswald out of the way, I grab the mittens to take the pot off of the heat and turn it off. Holding the pot over the sink, the boiling soup soon settles and I pour what's left of it into a bowl. After cleaning up the mess, I throw myself back onto the couch as Oswald feverishly eats his soup.

"Mmm...clam chowder," he comments, dabbing his mouth with a linen napkin.

I smile, he may have terrible table manners, but at least he doesn't use his sleeve.

I stop and notice that he's wearing a new suit, with an all black jacket, red handkerchief, and a turquoise vest to match his eyes. It looks good on him...it looks very good...

"I see you got a new suit," I comment as he finishes his meal.

He looks up, "Do you like it?"

I tilt my head, trying to not give myself away, "...a little."

"I'm glad," he smiles, getting up and bringing the bowl to the sink. He plops it in along with the considerable pile of unwashed dishes collecting in the basin. I'll have to wash those later.

Oswald reseats himself next to me, reaching over to stroke my hair.

"In a few short days, our bet will reach its end," he starts chuckling maniacally.

I roll my eyes, "I can see you're looking forward to it."

"Has it ever occurred to you that you want to lose this bet?" he asks, leaning in towards me.

"Nope."

His hand wanders over to my thigh, placing it as high up as he dare go, "Well, I think you want to lose this bet."

I push his hand away, "Why would I want to lose my own bet?"

"Because you want me. You want to explore me, both emotionally, and physically," he leaps up onto me, his legs spread out over mine, his arms pinning down my shoulders, "I can give that to you, I can give it to you right now."

A grin comes across my face as I reach up with my hand and brush his cheek, "You've really missed me, haven't you?"

And with that, he dives in, kissing my lips. His legs collapse onto my lap, and his arms wrap around my waist. I begin to push off his jacket, and he throws it off, sending it flying onto a nearby dining room chair. We roll around on the couch, playfully kissing until I end up on top of him. I let go, and rest my head against his chest. He wraps his arms around my shoulders, chuckling incessantly, "I thought you said you were tired."

"You're the one who wanted to make-out," I point out.

He twists his lips, "Perhaps, but you let me."

I tilt my head down, laughing before I push myself forward, leaning down toward him, combing my hand through his hair, "You're so cute."

His face now flushed red, I smile, kissing him on the cheek. We both lie on the couch through the night, entangled in each other's embrace. It's good to be home.

* * *

><p>Harrison sits down in a secluded apartment in the downtown area of Central City. Having given up on the hunt for the Trickstress, the police force have lifted the lockdown on the city. It didn't matter to him anyway, he's right where he needs to be. He sets down the black cube on a nearby table, "Don't worry buddy, we'll find you a home," he pats the cube, looking out the window of his apartment at the S.T.A.R. Labs building. Silly Amanda Waller thinks she can harness its power, but she has no idea what...or who she's dealing with. He presses a few key spots on the cube, and it opens up, revealing a blank holographic screen. Before he checks up on his old friend, he decides to do some digging.<p>

"Show me any future references to Natalie Ka...Kaw-" after a few more tries he gives up and manually types it in. Even he can't pronounce her last name.

The hologram changes to reveal a picture of her and Oswald Cobblepot at the grand opening of the Iceberg Lounge...another one several years later about her becoming a psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum...and that's it. Perhaps he's looking at the wrong name.

"Show me future references to the Trickstress," he commands.

The hologram changes again, this time revealing hundreds of articles. She eventually acquires a trench coat to wear over her costume...she's now a founding member of the Birds of Prey apparently...even joins the Justice League at one point. Harrison smiles, with his little interference in time, he's inadvertently created a new superhero. Ops. He knows he should probably be worried about what kind of effect his new creation will have on the future, but right now he's too fascinated by what he's created. He swipes through the articles, and one in particular catches his eye. "Trickster Escapes Federal Prison, Spotted in Gotham", that article is dated several months from now. He flexes his fingers, and chuckles to himself. Good luck with that Natalie.

**Author's Note: Concerning the mature AO3 content I'd promised to post there...I can't do it. I tried, multiple times, but I always ended up scrapping every draft. Smut really isn't my forte, and there are plenty of people out there who are much better at it than me. I'm sorry.**

**UndercoverSkeleton: You bet it's foreshadowing! I currently have a arc called "Revenge of the Trickster" queued at the very back of my list of arcs, so it'll be a while before we see the Trickster again (we're right between arcs 4 and 5, and I already have stuff slated up to arc 9, so we'll be at least 90 chapters in if/when we see the Trickster again, since arcs tend to be about 10 chapters each). And she'll be wearing the costume right away, as Harrison showed, it becomes a bit of a hobby for her. And right now, Oswald has everyone fooled but himself...and maybe Natalie...and of course you guys, the readers!**

**jasper-jordan: Thanks, and yay, I'm glad you like it. I thought that Gotham and the Flash would have more of a crossover in terms of fans, hence why I bet so heavily on the crossover in the story. And I've already kind of spoiled what's wrong with him (both in this chapter and in a hint in Chapter 36)**

**Fuchsia Grasshopper: Yeah, funny how that works, right? And I'm glad the Trickster is being received rather well, as I am taking liberties with the character as to fit the context of the story. And while he won't be back for a while, this next arc is going to be just as big of a risk, if not more so. Can you say: superheros?**

**Thanks! :)**


	41. The Role of the Villains

Chapter 41

I walk into the precinct on my first day back to work when Ed rushes me from completely out of the blue.

"Natalie, may I speak with you?" he asks.

"Of course Ed, what do you-" but I'm cut off by Ed grabbing my wrist and pulling me through the main hall, weaving past desks and the officers working them.

He stops in a dark side hall, "Natalie, I'm currently experiencing an existential crisis of sorts. No one appreciates what I do, and whenever I try to offer my help it's either shot down or ignored completely-"

I clasp my hand on Ed's shoulder, "Ed, you don't need others to confirm that you're an intelligent, kind man. You're smart enough to figure that out on your own."

His lips slowly curl into a smile, "Thank you Natalie."

"Now c'mon," I gesture, "they're not going to give you anymore work for another hour or so, right?"

"W-well of course, but...why do you ask?"

I arch an eyebrow, "Ed, I know you keep an Atari 2600 in your workshop in the precinct basement. Now c'mon, let's go play some Space Invaders."

* * *

><p>Ed taps furiously moves the joystick and taps the little red button while I look on. He plays Space Invaders on a small rabbit-ear television balanced on a rickety wooden table. His workshop is a small, dank room in the depths of the GCPD precinct. The little lighting in the room is tinted a light green, giving the room an eerie, almost unnatural glow.<p>

"What I don't understand is why the administration keeps such a tight hierarchy within the police force. If I'm qualified to do more than what my job requires, shouldn't I be allowed, no, _encouraged _to assist?" Ed rants, as the line of aliens grow closer on the screen.

"Ed, they do encourage you to assist, it's just that they don't know if you're completely qualified for these other jobs yet. They have to test the waters before they can trust you with anything serious," I explain, leaning against the wall as I watch him play.

One of the aliens on-screen blasts him, ending the game. Ed pounds his fist onto his knee, before handing the controller to me, "Your turn."

I chuckle, before I start a new game. While I play, Ed walks over to a small workbench on the other side of the room. He starts fiddling with a mechanical part lying on the bench, "On top of that, Ms. Kringle still refuses my requests for even civil lunch meetings."

I sigh, "Have you tried doing something for her?"

"Oh, all the time. Once, she was having difficulty reaching a box on the top shelf in the annex, and I got it for her. She thanked me," Ed smiles broadly, proud of his statement.

"No, I mean, something unwarranted, spontaneous. Something she isn't in immediate need of, but you choose to do for her anyway because...well, you like her."

Ed paces back toward me, where I'm struggling to keep the rows of aliens at bay, "Wow...you're not very proficient at this, are you?"

I roll my eyes, "Ed, you know I've never been very good at video games."

"Purely a psychological block. Your reflexes are excellent. Here, let me help," before I can protest, Ed wraps his arms around me, his hands meeting mine at the base of the controller. I blush, as Ed guides my hands on the controller. His head rests at my shoulder, and I can't help but lean my head slightly to meet his. But just as I make this gesture, he pulls away.

"There we go. See? You can do it," he grins, stuffing his hands into his lab coat.

I look back up at the screen and see that I've defeated the first round of aliens. I wasn't even paying attention to the screen.

I put down the controller, "I...I don't feel like playing anymore."

"What? But, but you were just getting good-" he's cut off by the sound of the Atari as my character is shot and defeated.

Head bowed down, I make my way out of the room, heading back upstairs. Ed grabs my wrist, "Oh, c'mon, it was just one game. I have Pong, we can play multiplayer. You always beat me at that-"

He cuts off as I pull my wrist away from him, "It, it has nothing to do with that."

I haven't felt like this towards Ed in a long time, why are my feelings resurfacing now?

"Then what does it have to do with? Natalie, please, tell me."

I turn away, the slightest hint of tears rimming the bottom of my eyes. He's so clueless sometimes, but this has always been an ignorance of his that works to my advantage.

"Natalie please! Tell me! I need to know!" Ed demands, his voice sharp and commanding.

I nearly jump. I've never seen him this angry before, perhaps it's his mood, but usually he's so understanding.

"I-I'm sorry Ed. This was suppose to be a thing to help cheer you up and now...look, I just need to get to work, okay?"

Ed grabs my arm, more forcefully this time, and with it, pulls himself up onto the steps, imposing his height onto me. He towers over me, and I can see my reflection through the lenses of his glasses, "Natalie, tell me...now. You promised no secrets between us."

I wrench my arm away once more, "No Ed, I'm never telling you. If you ever bothered to look, you would've figured it out years ago. Besides, it's...it's not even a secret worth telling."

Turning away, I ascend the stairs, silent and solemn, while Ed stands completely still, his hand still reaching out. Even after all these years, he'll never figure it out, and that's probably for the best.

* * *

><p>I arrive at Fish Mooney's to the tune of a rock song playing on the restaurant speakers. The restaurant area is strangely empty, usually there'd be waiters setting up for the night. I look over and I realize why, there are several men sitting at a single booth, all wearing dull grey suits and matching fedoras. Government workers.<p>

I'd avoided Ed the rest of the day at work, although he tried approaching me several times. He'll never know, and that's honestly for the best. Ed and I have a great friendship, and besides…

I was going to end that with "I'm dating Oswald", but am I? We've never spoken about our relationship at great lengths, and I'm not even sure if what he wants is a consistent relationship. He's a murderous psychopath, those kind of people don't generally seek stability.

I make it into the hallway, where Ann and Jack are talking.

"Hey Trixie, good to have you back," Ann mumbles, lighting a cigarette.

"Hey, have any of you guys seem Lazlo lately?" Jack asks, "I haven't seen in a week or so. We were suppose to play cards together last Saturday."

I shrug, I hadn't seen Lazlo either.

"Mooney had him whacked," Ann explains, "he was showing weakness after Falcone's guys beat him senseless."

Jack raises an eyebrow, "Excuse me? She _what_?"

"You know, he got whacked," Ann clarifies, waving around her cigarette, letting smoke waft in the air. But Jack still retained a confused expression. She rolls her eyes, before leaning her head forward slightly, and with her free hand, draws a line with her index finger from one side of her neck to the other.

"Oh…" Jack realizes.

The door to Fish's office opens, and Fish steps out, along with a man with thick brown hair in a dark suit.

"Ladies...Jack, relax. We're not opening tonight," she explains, a stern look on her face.

"Why not Ms. Mooney?" Ann asks.

Fish turns around, her long fake nails curling around her fingers, "We're under investigation by the Joint Congressional Un-American Activities Committee. They want all of you to stay here for questioning," she looks over to the man by her side, "Timothy, why don't you hang out with these nice people for a while? I need to speak to the...lovely men outside."

"Yes Ms. Mooney," Timothy nods.

She starts walking out, her high heels pounding against the hardwood floor. But suddenly she looks back, "And cheer up, will you? Twenty years ago y'all would've been thrown in jail without question. Trust me, this is nothing."

She leaves, and we all glance among ourselves silently, until Jack breaks the silence.

"Did she just say, 'y'all?'"

Ann whacks Jack over the back of the head, "Ouch!"

Timothy chuckles just a little, bringing the attention of the room to him.

"Oh yeah, everyone, this is Timothy, Mooney's new umbrella guy," Jack introduces. "Timothy, this is Ann and Trixie, they're dancers."

"Cool," Ann comments, before she leans her arm on my shoulder, "you know, Trixie's boyfriend was the last guy who had your job."

"He was not my boyfriend," I laugh, pushing her off of me.

She smirks, "Hey, could've fooled me."

"What's up you guys?" it's Nora, walking in with Liza.

"Hey Nora, Liza. Looks like Fish Mooney's under government investigation. So we've all gotta wait our turn to get interviewed," Jack explains.

Nora nods, "Cool. So, what are we gonna do until then?"

"That's a good question…" Jack muses, looking around the hallway.

"They moved the piano into the prop room. We're all singers, right?" Liza suggests, her voice quiet but blunt.

We all walk into the prop room, filled with props and costumes, the piano at the very front. Ann sits down at the piano, and plays a D major chord.

"I didn't know you play piano," I smile at Ann as she begins to play a tune.

Ann gives a knowing smirk, "Girl, there's a lot of things you don't know about me," she slides her hand across every key, "so, who wants to sing first?"

"Why don't we give the new guys a chance to sing?" I suggest, turning to Nora, Liza, and Timothy.

Nora steps forward, "I'll sing first."

She leans over and whispers the song to Ann, who smiles back before playing the overture.

"_Someday, my prince will come. Someday we'll meet again. And away to his castle we'll go. To be happy forever, I know,_" Nora's voice is light and beautiful, like that of an actual princess.

"_Someday when spring is here, we'll find our love anew. And the birds will sing, my wedding bells will ring. Someday when my dreams, come true._"

Everyone in the room claps, as Nora takes a timid bow.

"That was great Nora!" Ann nudges her, imitating an MC, "You got a prince you'd like to dedicate that song to?"

She chuckles nervously, "My boyfriend, Victor."

"Awe," Jack presses his hands to his heart.

Ann turns to the two remaining contestants, "Liza, wanna go next?"

She twirls her thick black hair, staring at the ground, "Uhm...could someone sing with me?"

"Sure," I offer, "I'll sing with you."

She nods, before whispering a song to both me and Ann. We all nod together, before Ann plays the slow prelude.

"_What ever happened to pure dealings, and fine ethics, and nice manners?_" Liza begins, "_Why is it everyone now, is a pain in the ass? Whatever happened to class?_"

"_Class," _now it's my turn, "_Whatever happened to 'please, may I?' and 'yes, thank you' and 'how charming'. Now every son of a bitch, is a snake in the grass! Whatever happened to class?_"

"_Class," _Liza repeats, and we sing together, "_oh, there ain't no gentlemen to open up the doors. There ain't no ladies now there's only pigs and whores. And even kids'll knock you down so's they can pass. Nobody's got no class!_"

Compared to Nora's voice, Liza is just okay, her voice slightly raspy and wispy. She could be good, but Nora clearly has more talent and practice.

"_Every guy is a snot,_" I speak-sing.

"_Every girl is a twat,_" Liza responds.

I smirk, "_Holy shit._"

"_Holy shit,_" she repeats.

"_What a shame._"

"_What a shame._"

We end together, "_What became, of...class?_"

The room gives us applause, not quite as much as Nora of course, there's no way we could've topped her.

"Okay Timothy, you're our closing act. Give it all you got!" Jack encourages his friend.

Timothy chuckles, "All right."

She whispers the song to Ann, and she plays the overture. He opens his mouth, lifting his chest…

The door flies open and the men in gray suits barge in, "We'll be questioning all of you now, one at a time."

We all sigh, before following them out into the main restaurant area.

"It's too bad we didn't get to hear you sing, Timothy," I remark.

Jack wraps his arm around Timothy's shoulder, "You need to hear this guy sometime, he makes everyone want to sing and dance!"

Timothy chuckles, "That may be true, but no one cracks jokes like you, Jack."

Jack lowers his head in embarrassment, "Oh, don't make me blush."

"Will you two please get a room?!" Ann cries.

**Author's Note:**

**Song Nora sings: "Someday My Prince Will Come" from "Snow White and the Seven Dwarves"**

**Song Liza and Trixie sing: "Class" from "Chicago"**

**jasper-jordan: Yeah, I basically didn't spoil anything past the pilot, and thanks :)**

**UndercoverSkeleton: Thanks, I have everything planned out until the latest episode and after that I have a list of possible plot lines that may or may not be used depending on where the future plot of the show goes. I'm definitely not going to completely abandon the story in the foreseeable future, but I will definitely have to adjust my release schedule once school starts and the spring show season kicks into high gear. I'm thinking twice a week instead of every two days. And she'll be back in action as the Trickstress soon, don't worry! :)**

**Lola93091: Well the bet ends in a couple of days and if she loses they would have to do what my friend calls "super-happy-fun-time". So hope Oswald doesn't do anything until then to mess it up ;)**

**Nemo: I could possibly do that, you know, if they were to ever to actually do IT. I'm fine with writing aftermath or the build up, it's the actual acts that made me scrap the AO3 content. I'm too young to be doing this anyway, I'm glad you enjoy the fic! :)**

**Thanks! :)**


	42. Calling On Cobblepot

Chapter 42

"State your name for the record," the government worker instructs.

"Trixie Tamaya," I respond coldly. If there's one thing I've learned while working for the CIA, it's that the government is too disorganized in their keeping of civilian records to prove if a name is false or not. Besides, it's not me they're after, it's Fish.

"...Trixie, is that a nickname? I need your official name." the interviewer asks.

He interviews me at one of the many tables in the restaurant area. There's folders set up on the sides of the table to obscure my view as other government workers interview the others.

I shake my head, "Nope. That's my name."

"Okay...Ms. Tamaya, have you at any point in your life, associated with a Communist organization?"

I try my best to not roll my eyes, I know if I anger this government worker, he's just going to drill me longer.

"No, I have not."

The interviewer reaches into a folder by his side and pulls out a large picture, "Ms. Tamaya, does this image look familiar to you?"

Now this is getting interesting. He hands the photo to me, and upon closer examination, I see it is a slightly blurry image taken from an alleyway of a figure in a mostly black suit, but with a bright red cape and details. This must be the mysterious vigilante I'd heard about on the radio. The figure is seen jumping in mid-air from one rooftop to the next, his cape trailing behind him.

"No, but I've heard people talking about this guy. He's the guy who's fighting the mob, right?" I ask, putting the picture down.

"Yes, where have you heard of her?"

Her? Thank you for that information.

I shrug, leaning back in my chair, "Just on the radio."

"And that is the only place where you've heard anything about this person? The radio?" the interviewer clarifies.

"Yes."

"Thank you Ms. Tamaya, that will be all," the government worker puts the picture back into his folder and waves me off.

I get out of my seat and begin walking out of the restaurant. My interview ends around the same time as everyone else, and we all clump as a group as we leave.

"Oh, Liza, Nora!" Fish calls out to them as the government workers begin packing up, "How about I give you two both a ride home? There's some...business affairs I need to discuss with you two. About the job opportunity."

The two girls turn around and follow her out the back door. Ann leans over to me to whisper, "You gotta wonder what sort of 'job opportunity' Ms. Mooney has in mind for those girls. Awfully young, aren't they?"

"Well, whatever it is, there's clearly only one open position if she's taking them on a 'car ride'," I whisper back.

"My money's on Nora. She's the better singer of the two," Ann bets.

I shake my head, "No. I have a feeling there won't be any singing involved, she's probably going to make them fight it out. In that case, my bet's on Liza. Nora seems too nice for that sort of thing."

Ann chuckles, "You never know. It always seems like the nicest ones turn the nastiest when under pressure. You should know."

I lightly slap her on the shoulder, "Hey!"

"Oh c'mon, everyone knows you rated on Oswald because he...you know, tried to impose himself on you."

I grin, "Wow Ann, I'd never thought I'd hear you try to be discreet."

"What are you two talking about?" Jack asks, as he and Timothy approach us.

I smile, "Oh, just girl stuff."

"Yeah, it's all girl talk. You wouldn't understand," Ann reciprocates, before the two of us giggle amongst ourselves.

Jack and Timothy exchange confused glances, they have no idea what we were talking about.

I arrive back at my apartment from Fish Mooney's to find Oswald by the front door, standing proudly in his best suit.

"Hey, I'm home early. Fish is apparently under investigation by the government, so she let us all go after we were interviewed," I explain, shutting the door behind me.

He lowers his head, chuckling, "I know, I'm the one who sent them."

I raise an eyebrow, "...why?"

"Fish may not have Communist ties, but she's hiding something alright," Oswald hints maliciously, "and besides, you and I have plans this evening."

"We do?" I ask.

He grins, before limping toward me, wrapping his arms around my waist, "Of course we do. Dinner reservations at Bamonte's, followed by an art gallery. My treat to you."

I smile, "So this is a date? You sent the government after Fish so we could go on a date?"

"Oh, no, I had other reasons for sending the government after her. I just felt it was appropriate timing, we'll be celebrating my promotion to restaurant manager. Maroni has been gracious enough to provide a reserved table for two."

I see. So he wants to gloat, well, I have nothing better to do tonight. I'll let him gloat, if just for tonight.

"Oh, you've been promoted? That's wonderful Oswald, and we should celebrate. I'll get changed, and then we'll leave, okay?" I tell him, pulling out of his arms.

He gets a dopey grin as I walk into my room. I turn around as I lean in my doorway, "And Oswald, you didn't take _all_ of my dresses, right?"

His grin turns into an expression of guilt, and I can't help but chuckle, "I'm sure I'll figure something out. But I'd like those clothes back someday."

I settle on a black dress that matches Oswald's dark suit. It's light and goes up to my knees, but it's also long enough to strap my daggers under just in case Oswald tries to pull any punches. After applying some light makeup, a gold bracelet, and brushing my hair, I slip into a pair of matching heels and open the door.

"I'm ready to go," I announce, stepping out of the doorway.

Oswald sits up from the couch, "Wow...you look...that was...fast. Don't...don't girls usually take a long time to get dressed?"

I glance up at the clock. Getting ready took me about half an hour, isn't that a long time?

I shrug, "Depends on the girl, I guess. How would you know anyway?"

Oswald bows his head as he gaits toward me, "Yes, yes, I suppose that's true," he offers his hand, "shall we?"

I smile, taking his hand, "Let's shall."

We're just walking out the door when I realize something, our bet ends tomorrow. He's warming me up for the "event", and looking at the time, we probably won't be back until midnight, meaning…

Oswald places his hand on my shoulder as we descend the stairs, "Enjoy tonight, and once we hear the chimes at midnight...then, you will be mine."

"And if I'm not?"

He laughs through his crooked smile, "Oh, Trixie, tempt not a desperate man. I will have you, even for just one night."

I lean away from him slightly. I can't tell if he's trying to be creepy on purpose, or if he's trying to genuinely be romantic. Either way, I'll never get use to it.

He kisses me on the cheek, and brushes the side of my neck with his hand. And, by the grace of his bum foot, he loses his balance on the stairs.

"Ah!" he slips and falls toward the ground.

I grab ahold of his other arm and root myself to the floor, catching him just in time. With my other hand, I scoop him back up.

"You should be more careful, that injury still hasn't worn off, has it?" I ask, glad that we're off of the subject of midnight activities.

"At this point it's probably permanent," Oswald concludes, regaining his footing.

"Well, maybe you could get...I don't know, a cane perhaps?"

The manager looks at us from his desk, drugged out as usual, "You two going out on a date?"

Oswald straightens himself out, "That, I'm afraid, is none of your business," he takes my arm, squeezing it tightly, "c'mon along now, my dear."

The manager rolls his eyes and sneers as we stroll out into the Gotham streets. Most of the streetlights are dead, leaving the pavement pitch black and the street in front of us barely visible. Still, I somehow feel safe in Oswald's arms. Realistically, he would never protect me in any sort of situation, physically or otherwise but...the idea is nice.

**Author's Note: Happy belated New Year to everyone! Hope you didn't party too hard (or if you're me, stayed home and chatted with friends over Skype)**

**Fuchsia Grasshopper: Yeah, I was wondering where your review was, I even delayed the posting of the latest chapter by half an hour to see if you'd post. Eh, I post so often it's not a wonder people are bound to miss a few here and there. I was wondering if anyone would recognize that song, as I try to choose either showtunes or songs old/obscure enough that it wouldn't break anyone's immersion (no Taylor Swift to be had here). Admittedly, I've only ever played Space Invaders on emulators, but from what I've gathered from that, I'm pretty terrible at it too. And yeah, four more days till Gotham returns! Although admittedly, that's also the day I go back to school so it's bittersweet for me**

**Guest: Thanks, we'll be seeing more of Ed in the future!**

**UndercoverSkeleton: Ah, thanks! I'll soon reveal Natalie's feelings on Kristen, and Nora saying her boyfriend is "Victor" is a reference to Victor Fries, but I also realize that Fries and Zsasz have the same first name so whoops! And yes, nice ringtone. Very "funky" :D**

**Thanks! :)**


	43. A Dark Knight to Remember

Chapter 43

We approach a one-story building at the edge of the warehouse district. The word "Bamonte's" is written in golden lettering on the front window. The restaurant itself is fairly empty, the dim lighting illuminating the restaurant and bar area.

Upon entering, a large man in a charcoal gray suit gets up from his table and approaches us, "My friend, welcome."

The man opens his arms and Oswald gets on his tippy toes to hug the man. Afterwards, Oswald turns around, "Don Maroni, this is Trixie. Trixie, this is my boss Don Maroni."

Oswald steps out of the way as Maroni takes my hand and kisses it, "Pleasure. Your table is the one by the window in front. Please, enjoy."

I smile politely, "Thank you."

Oswald takes me by the waist and leads me to the table. The table for two has been set up to include complimentary bread and a bottle of wine. Oswald pulls out the seat for me, and I tentatively sit down as he pushes the chair in, allowing his hand to brush my shoulders as he hobbles back to his seat. We open up the menus. For such a small restaurant, the prices are outrageous, although it makes sense, the price on seafood has been going up ever since they declared the Gotham River too polluted to fish…

"The marinated eel is lovely," Oswald comments.

The what? I find marinated eel under the "fish" section and...that's the most expensive item on the menu! Is he insane?!

"Well, yes but...it's quite expensive. I think I'm just going to go with a salad-"

Oswald cuts me off when he reaches across the table and places his hand on mine, "Let me treat you tonight, my dear. I can afford it, and trust me, it's delicious."

Our waiter comes around, a scruffy man wearing a leather jacket over his waiter's outfit, "Good evening, Penguin. Out on a date tonight?"

Oswald balls up his fists, his cheeks becoming slightly red, "Ha! Mr. Frankie Carbone, ever the jokester! On waiter duty tonight I see?"

I've never seen Oswald this...snappy. He looks at Frankie with dark, daring eyes. His movements seem relaxed but controlled almost to a fault.

"Pfff! Waiters decide to go on strike, so me and the boys gotta fill in, now are you gonna order something or what?" Frankie asks, his voice low-toned and gruff.

Oswald closes his menu and slams in onto the table, "The marinated eel for the both of us, please."

Frankie chuckles sarcastically as he collects our menus, "Good luck paying for that, schmuck."

I look around and notice that there are only three waiters on staff, including Frankie. The other two are large men who look like they barely fit into their waiter uniforms. Hired muscle, and Frankie must be their leader. But there's something I couldn't help but notice between Frankie and Oswald…

"You like him," I realize aloud as Frankie disappears into the restaurant kitchen.

Oswald jerks his head up, "Wha, what do you mean?"

I giggle, "You know what I mean Oswald."

"Well, what if I do? Does that make you jealous?" he challenges, his eyes wide and wild.

I grab the bottle of wine and uncork it, pouring a glass for Oswald and myself, "Of course I'm jealous, but there's a difference between jealousy and vengefulness," I put the bottle down, "for example, the friend I exchange letters with, Ed? He...he likes another woman, and while I may not necessarily approve of the two of them as a couple, if that's what he feels will make him happy...well, who am I to stop him? So yes, I am jealous of Frankie, but that's not going to make me antagonize him, and besides, he seems to be doing a good job of that himself."

Oswald chuckles, a devilish grin growing on his lips, "Oh, very well said Trixie, but you don't fool me. You'd poke his eyes out given the chance."

My words were completely honest, but Oswald and I see things differently to say the least, "I meant what I said Oswald."

His laughter stops as he registers my playful but serious tone. He interlaces his fingers together, smiling, "You...are a very strange woman Trixie," he reaches over and places his his hand on mine, "and I love you for that."

Frankie comes around balancing two dishes in his hands. He places them both before us, "Eat up."

"Thank you, Mr. Carbone," Oswald smirks tauntingly.

He rolls his eyes, "Whatever."

As Oswald had said, the marinated eel is lovely, of course tarnished by the fact that Frankie may have spit in either one of our dishes. This doesn't seem to bother Oswald much, as he scarfs down his dish.

As I finish my eel and Oswald wipes the last of the sauce off of his mouth, I can't help but notice how the dim lighting reflects off of his slick black hair, his cute smile, or how well his albeit strange suit compliments his small, slim figure. It's rather endearing, however abnormal. He leans back in his chair, and at the sight of his vest and crisp white shirt, I imagine myself unbuttoning them...perhaps...going further…

I snap myself out of this delusion. Did Frankie drug my food? No, he'd have no reason to help Oswald, quite the opposite. Due to their work situation Frankie would consider Oswald a competitor. If not drugs, what is it that I'm feeling so suddenly? Perhaps it has something to do with the atmosphere, or maybe it's the certain event set to conclude the night but still, shouldn't I be dreading it, rather than anticipating it?

"Here's the bill," one of the large men throws a thin piece of paper onto the table.

"Thank you, Gabriel," Oswald thanks before examining the paper, "uhm...Gabriel, these aren't the prices stated on the menu."

Gabriel raises an eyebrow, his slight accent clipping his speech, "Oh yeah, they raised the price on fish because of that oil spill in Coast City."

"But these are not the prices listed on the menu. I've been tricked," Oswald protests.

He shrugs, "I don't make the rules 'round here."

Oswald digs in his pockets and pulls out all of the cash on hand. Gabriel snatches the money and counts it up, "Uh, you're short forty bucks, Penguin."

Oswald's teeth clench at the sound of that name, but only for a second, "I, I didn't expect prices to be so high. Like I said, the menu deceived me."

"Is there a problem here?" Frankie asks, approaching our table.

"No Mr. Carbone, I was just going to finish paying for our meal," I reply, sliding a one-hundred dollar bill across the table.

Gabriel snatches the bill and holds it up, amazed.

"Keep the change," I encourage, gesturing them away.

I watch as Gabriel takes the money to the register, organizing the bills so that he can collect the tip. But just as he holds up the extra sixty dollars, Frankie snatches them from him.

"I'll take that," he declares, stuffing the bills into his pocket.

"Oh, c'mon Frankie! I's been due for a raise for forever! I've got kids to feed, you know!" Gabriel calls out.

Not looking back, Frankie continues walking to the kitchen area, "Your kids can starve for all I care, Gabe. My table, my tips."

"Maybe it's time we leave," I suggest to Oswald.

He nods, and we get up from our table. Maroni looks up from his exclusive table, "See you kids! Don't get into too much trouble out there, those muggers have been getting damn aggressive!"

"I already feel like I've been robbed," Oswald whispers as we exit the restaurant.

* * *

><p>Oswald holds Trixie close as they make the walk from Bamonte's to the Gotham Art Gallery. She smiles, slightly squeezing his arm while she kisses him on the cheek. She's so happy, as if she's had a wonderful experience with a wonderful man, when the exact opposite is true.<p>

He'd planned this date to prove to her what a cultured, respectable man of society he's become, but so far, simply everything has gone wrong. While Maroni put on an exceptional performance as per usual, Frankie and Gabriel mocked him with that infuriating name...Penguin. Not to mention that Trixie detected his feelings for Frankie almost right away. Is it that obvious? Either way, it's embarrassing to say the least. And to top it all off, he didn't even have enough money to complete the bill, forcing Trixie to pitch in. How humiliating.

"I, I apologize for making you pay," he tells her, as the cold wind of the Gotham night whips the two of them.

She shrugs, "It's not a problem, Oswald. I was actually surprised when you tried to pay for the entire bill yourself. It would've been ridiculous."

"But it's the gentleman's duty to pay," he argues, tightening his grip on her arm.

She rolls her expressive brown eyes, "In this economy? I think most guys would go broke trying."

Ah Trixie, what with her strange sense of humor, her odd sensibilities. They amused him to no end.

He likes how her tanned, golden skin contrasts against his own pale skin. He runs his hand through her long, dark hair, thick and beautiful. And yet, there are imperfections, an unevenness in her eyes, a slight chubbiness in her cheeks, and a bridgeless nose. But there's something about her that transcends her appearance. For all of her flaws couldn't hide the fact that she cares about him, respects him. And in the end, that's all he could ask for.

**Author's Note:**

**PusanGal: Awe, thanks, and thank you for working this holiday season. I'm too young to legally hold a job, but I've heard working retail can be a nightmare during the holiday season, I hope you didn't have to face those Black Friday crowds (or at least got compensation for it). I'm so glad to hear that my story brought you a little joy during your off-hours**

**HellsButterfly13: Hey, good to hear from you again! I'm happy you're still onboard with us, and don't worry, while I'm constricted to what the show does with Ed, that doesn't mean I don't have plans for him ;)**

**Fuchsia Grasshopper: You're right, he does everything for a reason, and he explains his motives behind the date in this chapter. And to be honest, I just included that fall to get out of the awkward situation that was building there. Natalie's suggestion for a cane was a reference to the umbrella, but he doesn't use it as a cane until Episode 7, and we're still on Episode 4, so, it'll come with time. I like updating quickly too, but after Jan 5th I'm going on a brief hiatus for reasons I'll explain then. And I can't wait for Gotham either, and I'll definitely be posting on your birthday :)**

**LoverOfRumpelstiltskin: Thank you, I'm glad you enjoy it but as I've explained before, I have no intention of changing the T-rating. That, however doesn't mean I can't work my way around it ;)**

**Thanks! :)**


	44. High Society

Chapter 44

The Gotham Art Gallery is a slick, modern building with dark hardwood floors and yellowed spotlights. The art itself ranges from classic to abstract, and I notice on a stand board the exhibit is titled, "Art From a Golden Age, featuring artist Barbara Kean".

Oswald and I walk in, the gallery already bustling with people in fancy, formal attire. Even Oswald looks slightly underdressed among the sharp suits and evening gowns. Servers walk around offering small finger foods and martini drinks.

"I know the artist featured tonight. I'll introduce you," Oswald offers, as we approach a blond woman in a short black dress. The woman turns around and smiles.

"Peter! I didn't expect to see you here. How are you?" she asks.

Huh, well apparently I'm not the only one with a pension for fake names.

"Lovely, Barbara. I saw you were going to be featured in the gallery selects, so I had to drop by," he steps slightly behind me, placing his hand on my waist, "this is my...very good friend, Natalie."

Oh, and he uses my real name? I smile brightly anyway, shaking her hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you Ms. Kean."

"Oh no, please, call me Barbara. Ms. Kean is my mother. Natalie, that name sounds familiar. Are you an officer for the GCPD?"

"Why yes, I am," I reply, unsure of how she knows that.

"Oh yeah, Jim's mentioned you once or twice. Where are you from, exactly?" she asks, making small talk.

Jim? As in James Gordon? No wonder she knows about me.

"Star City, I was attending college there but I decided to come back to Gotham to find work," I explain, half telling the truth.

Barbara steps back slightly, "Oh, wow, coming to Gotham City at the same time as that mysterious vigilante. You can't help but be suspicious, right?"

Oswald takes my hand, "Barbara, what are you talking about?"

"Oh, it's a theory Jim has. He thinks you're the masked vigilante," she whispers to me.

I raise an eyebrow, but I play along, "Well, you never know when I'll disappear into the night!"

A tall woman with long red hair calls out to Barbara, "Babs! Over here darling!"

She turns around, "V, hey!" she briefly turns back to us, "So nice to meet you Natalie. Don't worry about Jim, he can get a little paranoid sometimes, but he's a good man."

Barbara walks over to the woman she referred to as "V", and hugs her. After thinking on it for a moment, I realize I recognize that woman.

"Oswald, that's Veronica Vreeland, the famous heiress! She's always in the celebrity section of the papers, but I never thought I'd see her in the flesh," I whisper to him.

He chuckles, "Yes, I run with a sophisticated crowd."

I raise an eyebrow, "No, _you_, know Veronica Vreeland? Not in a million years."

"Why? Do you doubt me?"

I pull back my waist, placing my hands on my hips, "Well, if you insist you're of such high class, why don't you go up and talk to her?"

His eyes light up, both in fear and in realization of an opportunity, "Why...of course...I will."

I smirk, crossing my arms as I lean against a nearby wall, grabbing a bite-sized sandwich from one of the servers' tray. Oswald shuffles over to Veronica, and I can't help but laugh when I realize that she's practically twice his height. He timidly approaches the confident woman, fiddling with his fingers and finally speaking in a soft, shy voice.

"Good evening Ms. Vreeland, I couldn't help but notice you were in attendance to tonight's gala. I'm-"

She turns around, seemingly only having just noticed him and shrieks, "My word! What sort of attire is that? Absolutely dreadful, cheap, tasteless! And...and that strange hair! You look like a vagabond off of the street! And that nose! Oh! You simply must have it done, this instant!"

Oswald, in absolute shock, slowly begins backing off, "Oh...my apologizes Ms. Vreeland, I, I didn't mean to offend-"

He backs up one step too far and bumps into a server carrying cherry martinis, the tray falling out of his hand and dumping all of its contents onto Oswald. The red drinks soak his hair and suit, leaving him dripping wet in the middle of the gallery. The people around him fall silent and slowly but surely, an uproarious laughter bursts out among the crowd. People point and laugh, and Oswald, now more paralyzed than ever, shakingly moves his black bangs out of his face to witness the laughingstock he's become.

I rush to him, pushing through the small crowd that was beginning to encompass him. Not knowing what else to do, I grab him by the wrist and head straight for the exit, shoving people out of the way as I navigate through the crowd. A large man holding a martini glass of his own, stands particularly in the way of the door.

"What a funny little Penguin man!" he roars, seeing the whole thing as a simple joke.

"Move!" I shout, throwing my hands forward, the force becoming more of a punch than a push.

I hit him a little harder than I'd expected, throwing him against the wall, his drink shattering as he hits the floor. Opps. The laughter growing louder from my own faux pas, and wanting to escape my own embarrassment, I lead Oswald out of the art gallery and into the street.

"Are you okay? You're not hurt, right?" I ask him sternly, checking to make sure no glass had cut him anywhere.

He shakes his head furiously, cherry martini flicking out of his hair and lightly splashing me.

"Good, we're going home," I declare, before pulling him down the street.

As we pass the wide glass windows of the art gallery, I notice Barbara's worried stare as she watches us practically run out into the streets. She's worried yes, but not enough to have done anything about it.

We're two blocks away from the art gallery when Oswald finally speaks, "I...I've failed."

I turn around, "What are you talking about? If anything it's my fault, I shouldn't have dared you to go talk to that vicious vixen Veronica Vreeland."

Wow, alliteration. I didn't mean to do that, but it just seemed like the right words to describe her.

He laughs, but it doesn't hide the fact that he's on the verge of tears, "They laughed...they always laugh...am I...am I really that big of a joke?"

I shake my head, "Oswald, they don't laugh at you because you're a joke. They laughed because...well…" honestly, I can't think of a way to describe it without somehow offending Oswald. They were laughing at him, even if they didn't mean to be cruel.

He stops me in my tracks, grabbing me firmly by the shoulders, "Admit it, you're just like them. You, you belittle me, you think less of me...to you, I'm a failure."

I sigh heavily, before taking a step towards Oswald and pulling him into a hug. He's positively sticky everywhere, but that becomes the least of my concerns as he buries his head into my neck and shoulder and starts quietly sobbing. I smooth his back with my hand as he pulls me close, trying my best to comfort him. For a couple of minutes, we stand in the relative silence of the evening, with only the pale Gotham moon to illuminate the darkness.

Somewhere a church bell gives a low chime, signalling midnight. Oswald sniffs back the last of his tears, and I reach up, wiping a stray tear from his cheek.

"Listen, the chimes of midnight…" I whisper softly, although there's no one else around to hear us, "you know what that means?"

He smiles and nods, before I pull back slightly, offering my hand to him. He excitedly grabs it, yanking me through the Gotham streets, racing home, laughing as we go.

* * *

><p>"Is this going to become a normal thing? Taking baths together?" I ask him, turning off the water on the tub.<p>

He shrugs, the water barely going past his shoulders, an innocent look on his face, "I wouldn't mind if it did."

"Well, I'm not getting in the tub with you this time," I tell him, noticing the opaque water turning a slightly reddish color from the cherry martinis spilled on him. If I thought bathing with him was unsanitary before...

He peers out from the tub as I dump his suit into a nearby pile of dirty clothes, "...please?"

I turn around to see that he's staring at me with a puppy-eyed look, pursing his lips, and cocking his head sideways. I roll my eyes, after what he's been through tonight, it's rather hard to say no to him, "Fine."

I unzip my dress from the back and pull the entire thing over my head in one fell swoop. Oswald's eyes widen and he bites his lip, leaving his mouth slightly ajar.

"Do you mind?"

He opens his mouth, but it takes a few extra seconds before he can respond, "No, no I don't mind."

I roll my eyes once more as I throw off my undergarments and march over to the tub, stepping in one foot at a time. I slide to the bottom, the water just grazing the tip of my chin. Oswald reaches over and gently grabs my arm, leading me to his side of the tub. He turns me around and rests my back against his chest, wrapping his arms around my shoulders.

"You're not going to try to drown me again, right?" I ask, leaning my head slightly to face him.

He chuckles, playfully massaging my shoulders, "Stay with me, and your safety is assured."

Oswald leans back slightly, adjusting himself so that I'm sitting directly on his lap...and something else.

"They're idiots, all of them," he grumbles, "I'm just as intelligent as any one of them, and what do they do? They mock me...humiliate me…"

He runs his hand through my hair, clawing it with his fingers until his arm disappears back into the waters, "But I'll show them, I deserve to be among them-...no, _above_ them. They'll see, I'm going to become a man of importance in this town. Veronica Vreeland will beg just to grovel at my feet."

He pauses, both of his hands on my shoulders, before tilting his head down, close enough so that his breath heavy on my cheeks, "Thank you, for being there for me tonight."

We lean in and kiss, his arms moving to my hips below the water. I press against him, pushing his back against the tub as I grind against his chest. We let go, both smiling at each other.

"Alright, that's enough bath time," I lift myself out of the tub, "I'll get another one of your suits from the-"

Oswald leans back into the tub, his eyes leering and his jaw shifting from side to side, "No...no, you misunderstand…"

As I wrap a towel around my body to conceal myself, I slowly turn around, my heart racing both in fear, and anticipation.

His arms splayed on both sides of the tub, his tilts his head up, licking his lips, "We won't be needing anymore clothes tonight."

**Author's Note: "Birds of a Feather" is taking a brief hiatus while the Wattpad version catches up. On the Wattpad version, I've been testing a new release schedule and will now be implementing it to accommodate my hectic personal life and to also allow me time to write on other stories. "Birds of a Feather" will return January 23, and will release every Tuesday and Friday from then on, instead of every other day (or every two days, depending on your time zone, as I often post at 9 pm PST). Until then, thank you guys for all of the support, criticism, and feedback you guys have given me, I truly appreciate it**

**PusanGal: Wow, holiday shopping season keeps starting earlier and earlier. But it's good to hear that you made the best of it. How crowded was the Radioshack? Because I always hear jokes about Radioshack being this outdated ghost town, and my Black Friday tradition has always been to venture with some friends to the empty Barnes and Nobles (formerly Borders) for some lovely sales**

**Fuchsia Grasshopper: Happy Birthday! I don't think Oswald would agree that it was a good date, but you know Oswald. And there's no way he could've broken the no-killing rule because Frankie is the guy he stabs in Episode 7, and Gabriel is the driver he talks to in Episode 10. So we know when one dies, and the other is still alive**

**Thanks! :)**


End file.
